


Flying and Righting the Wrongs

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, fun fact i wrote this without any clue who perrie was, i imagined her to look more like this hippie book character named petra, i literally just knew she was blonde, i made demi act like a character she played on sonny with a chance, idk what else to tag, nouis friendship, second ever 1d and second ever slash, thats it, third fic i ever wrote, zarry friendship - Freeform, zayn/danielle is brief, zouis, zwings may be my otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A bakery?”</p><p>“A deserted bakery,” Louis corrected as he climbed the last step to get to the roof of the building. “See what I did there?”</p><p>Zayn rolled his eyes. “Okay…why?” he asked as he joined him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying and Righting the Wrongs

**Author's Note:**

> [first posted under my old tumblr handle halosandsongs]
> 
> Repost of one of my first, and still one of my favorite, one shots. Originally written in august 2012. I edited it. No beta, all mistakes are mine so please fell free to point them out to me if you notice any.
> 
>  **READ THIS IT'S IMPORTANT:**
> 
> … signals that an amount of time has lapsed. The amount is usually explained by the following text
> 
> —*— signals a change in perspective.
> 
> Sometime's they're right by each other but they still mean the same thing.
> 
> oh yeah. i own nothing but my ideas and the way i express them. it's just fanfiction

_But that’s the moment you came to me, I don’t know what your love has done to me. Think I’m invincible, I see through the me I used to be._

 

***

It was the worst experience of his life with no exaggeration. It started slow, a dull stretching he felt in his back after football practice. He blamed it on Liam checking him a little too hard, that kid had always had something against him and he was pretty sure it had something to do with his girlfriend.

It was a week later on a movie date with Danielle (she had been begging him to watch Saw 4 with her at her place), when he felt as if something dug its claws into his shoulder blades and was tearing them apart, as if searching for something hidden in him. He cried out in pain and Dani giggled; she thought he was scared of the movie.

He wasn’t.

What he was scared of was the fact that he already felt warm liquid he figured was blood settling itself into his flimsy white V-neck and making it’s way to his letterman jacket.

“I have to go.”

She laughed before she spoke, pushing her soft curls out of her eyes and looking up at him. “You’re not that scared are you?”

“No I-I just remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow. I should probably get started on it.”

She frowned.

“We can hang out tomorrow Dani.”

“Zayn you know I can’t. I have an extra cheer leading practice this Wednesday remember?”

“Thursday then.”

“Whatever,” she huffed.

If he wasn’t in so much pain he would have tried to appease her. But there would be time for apologies later-he hoped. Even as he approached the huge white house with the green roof, his home, he still felt as if his body was being twisted inside out. His pride prevented him from breaking down before he got inside.

He was doing his best to fight off the tears while he stripped his shirt off, feeling the warm fluid that was headed for his shirt just moments ago make a slow trickle down his back. He stepped into his bathroom and turned backwards slightly so he could look over his shoulder and see his back reflected in the wide mirror. At first he thought the pain and the tears blurring his eyesight were playing tricks on him but as he blinked off the tears and did his best to fight off new ones, the image still remained. Coming out of where his shoulder blades would normally be were small humps of bone surrounded by bloodied feathers.

Feathers?

The sight had him doubled over in seconds, emptying his stomach into the porcelain bowl of his toilet. As he slid down the cool tile, wiping at his mouth, the thought of telling his mother about the (what could he even call this) flittered through his mind.

But their football team had a pretty big game on Monday, he couldn’t afford to miss it, the guys would kill him.

Using all the energy he could muster, Zayn picked himself up and trudged over to the medicine cabinet to pull out a tall roll of gauze and some rubbing alcohol. He winced as he dabbed the liquid on his back, the stretch on his arm as he reached around himself combined with the searing pain running through his back left him in tears.

 

 

…

But it got better. He used more gauze than he had in his life time, and he never took his shirt off in the locker room anymore, but it got better.

Until it got worse.

 

 

…

He was thrust out of his slumber by the sensation of his back being torn apart. The pain he had felt was so immense he was unable to scream, he simply laid there with wide eyes as his sheets dampened with blood. He was paralyzed in his bed until morning broke and he heard his mothers padded footsteps. The panic of being discovered gave him enough strength to throw the blankets over himself to hide the blood.

“Zayn? What are you still doing in bed?” She yawned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

It wasn’t until she did so that she took in the state of her son. His face was pale with sweat beaded above his brow.

“Oh, Javadd! Are you sick, honey?”

He forced a small smile and he nodded, the small movement sending his back into frenzy once again. He had to bite back a scream for fear of startling his mother.

She began speaking again. “You stay home for a couple days ok?” She frowned as she continued. “I won’t be able to stay with you though, this conference is pretty important. But you call me if you need anything ok? Anything at all.”

“Alright, mom, you go on,” he croaked. He needed her to leave the house before he assessed the situation. (Before he let the tears fall. If she saw him crying she would never leave.)

Some hours later, after mentally preparing himself, Zayn sat up and made his way to his bathroom, pain coursing through his body the entire way. He slowly peeled the bandages off of his skin. The massive amount of blood acting as an adhesive and tugging at bits of his skin as the gauze fell.

The things, which he now figured were wings (and how crazy was that? Wings!) were still growing. The majority was covered in gray feathers, as he had washed them, but he spotted the new growth sprouting by the still bloodied feathers, leaving trails of blood in the clean ones.

His mother called later to tell him that her business trip was being extended and that he could stay home as long as he needed.

She ended up coming back two weeks later but it was enough.

Zayn’s body had quickly grown accustomed to the growth and clotted blood much faster. It was only this modification that allowed him to retain enough blood to function and his new found large physical pain threshold that allowed him to perform the basic tasks he needed to survive.

But by the time Patricia returned he was no longer the same.

 

 

—*—

“Honey? Zayn? I’m home!” Tricia’s voice rang through the stairwell. She got no answer.

Before she could get too worried she found her son staring intently at the TV with a bowl of cereal in his lap.

The TV wasn’t on.

“Zayn? Why are you wearing that old thing? I thought you didn’t like it?”

Her son, who now seemed to be regaining focus, was wearing a big black leather jacket she had bought a few years back. She had heard his school was having a Grease themed spirit day and decided to pick it up on her way back from work. When she showed it to him he dismissed it saying it was three sizes too big and “spirit day was for dorks anyways”.

“Oh…sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. Oh um… yeah it’s not so bad. I’m going to go to bed okay?”

And he was off, leaving his bowl unwashed on the kitchen island. That boy would have to talk to her someday.

 

 

—*—

As Zayn shut the door behind him he sank down onto the floor of his bedroom. He still didn’t like the jacket very much but it was the only thing he could find at the time that hid the presence of extra additions on his back.

He stood up and locked the door before he made his way into the bathroom. He took off the jacket, the presence of something on his back becoming slightly more noticeable, but not by much considering how many bandages he had used to strap them down.

He could feel them twitching to be released beneath their confines and they slowly unfolded, as if stretching after a long slumber, after he took of the last of the restricting material.

Thankfully they didn't grow as long as he had feared, stopping just before the dip of his backside. But they were wide, really wide. Wide enough that he imagined he’d probably be able to fly with them.

(Though he’d never try)

He knew that things would still change though. He’d have to quit the football team, among other things, and things with Danielle were about to get a shitload tougher.

 

 

…

“We never go anywhere anymore.”

Zayn sighed, he knew Danielle was right, but he didn’t have many options. After he had “abondoned his team when they needed him most”, as Liam had put it, he had essentially been banned from all the places worth going to. Danielle seemed to be getting sick and tired of always going to Paul’s Pins all the time. And to be frank he was getting sick of the place, and its curly haired worker, as well.

So he could only sigh in response.

“You can’t just keep ignoring me Zayn.” She stood up now, her greasy slice of pizza left to congeal in the cool air. “You changed, you changed so much. But what kills me is that you won’t even tell me what happen-”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it okay!” he snapped. “Why can’t you just let it go.”

“Because,” she sighed, “then I’d have to let you go…is that what you want?”

He didn’t reply.

“Huh.” She released a bitter chuckle. “I guess this is goodbye then.” She picked up her jacket and made her way to the door. He thought she was gone but at the door she stopped looked over and softly said “See you around Zayn Malik.” before exiting the bowling alley, the door bell chiming as she went.

That was the last time he had a conversation with Danielle Peazer.

That was the last time he had a conversation with anyone other than his mother, Ms. Matelin or Harry Styles of Paul’s Pins really.

 

 

…

—*—

“Boobear, could you help me get those last few boxes? The twins are already asleep and Lottie’s halfway there.”

“Sure thing, mum.”

Louis pulled his hood over his auburn hair and pushed his fringe out of his eyes as he stepped into the Chicago summer air.

His family had just moved there from Doncaster and he’d be starting school at Mortimer Alder High School the following week.

Needless to say, he was nervous. Going to a new school as a junior was hard enough, with everyone already having known each other for at least a few years, but the added gay factor didn’t help. His peers back in Doncaster weren’t the most accepting.

While he locked the car door and made his way back towards the house, two boxes stacked in his arms he took notice of the house to the left of his. They were about the same size but the other house was painted white with a green roof.

 

 

…

“Um, hi. I’m Louis Tomlinson. Uh... I came to pick up my class sched-“

“Green folder, in alphabetical order,” the red haired woman at the front desk answered, not even looking up from her computer.

“Thank you,” Louis answered as he spotted the folder. It was his first day of school, a Tuesday, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. His mom dropped Daisy, Phoebe, and Lottie off at their school before letting him go with a “Have fun sweetie!” and a smile.

After referring to his schedule, Louis began searching for his first class. After about ten minutes of failure he decided to just suck it up and ask somebody. That blonde kid looked nice enough.

“Hi, um you wouldn’t happen to know where,” Louis looked down at the chart, “room 243 is would you? I have class with Mr. Monet.”

The boy smiled. “Sure. I was just heading over there; I’ve got Psychology in the room next to it. Which means you, sir, are heading in the wrong direction.”

The boy laughed when Louis’ cheeks reddened. “Well that was thoroughly embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m Niall by the way.” Niall extended his hand.

“Louis.” Louis shook his hand.

“So you must be the new kid.”

Louis turned his face to Niall, feeling slightly nervous. “People have been talking about me?”

“No, no, not like that. It’s just, it’s not every day we get a British guy moving to MA High. What part of England are you from anyway?”

“Doncaster.”

“Oh, cool”.

Louis shook his head as Niall turned to enter his own classroom. “You have no idea where that is, do you?”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the p sound before smiling wide. “But you’ll forgive me. I’m pretty much your only friend so far.”

Friend.

Louis liked the sound of that.

 

 

…

Louis heard the sharp sound of the bell, signaling the end of second period and the beginning of lunch.

Niall had invited him to eat lunch with him and his friends. The tables were numbered and if he remembered correctly he was supposed to meet him at table seventeen near the full door windows.

He sat awkwardly waiting for Niall. He had been looking around when he spotted a jock type guy heading towards him. True, he didn’t really know this kid, but no matter where you were you had to know that a letterman jacket commanded attention and exuded authority. And this red and white letterman jacketed boy was taking purposeful strides toward his table.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh-

“Hi!”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Um, sorry. Is this your table?”

The brown haired boy chuckled.

“You must be Louis.”

“Yeah, sorry how do you know my name?”

“Niall told me. I’m Liam.”

The boy put his hand forward for Louis to shake before sitting down.

“Niall’s running a bit late, baking club meeting.”

“Baking club?”

Liam laughed again. “Yeah, he hardly bakes though; he’s mostly there for the food.”

Louis and Liam continued the light conversation for a few minutes and Louis didn’t even notice when a brown haired girl sat down at the table, followed by Niall. Not until Liam turned to the girl at a break in their conversation and spoke.

“Where’s Dani?”

“Emergency cheer meeting. They need to get ready for this year’s tryouts.”

Liam nodded before noticing Louis uncomfortable stance.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Lou, can I call you Lou? This is Eleanor, Eleanor this is Lou.”

The girl turned to face him.

“Nice to meet you, Lou. You got a last name?”

“Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson.”

“Cool.”

Lunch passed by quickly and, oddly enough, the conversation never stopped. Louis started off only giving his input occasionally but by the fourth week of school he was commandeering the lunch conversation, more often than not leaving Niall in stitches.

He decided to tell Niall one day on the walk back from school; his mom had stopped driving him. At the corner of the sidewalk as Niall prepared to turn right and depart Louis called out to him.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“…”

“Lou?”

“…”

“Are you-“

“I’m gay.”

Niall’s brows furrowed before he spoke (and this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen).

“I’m Irish.”

“What?”

“I thought we were like, saying little unimportant tidbits about ourselves. I'm sorry, I'm not good at 'getting to know you' games."

Louis laughed. “Thanks Niall” he said before he walked on, leaving a slightly confused Irishman behind him.

 

 

…

“Okay now get into your groups.”

The sound of Mr.Cardle’s voice hit Louis’ ears as he turned to Niall.

“Partners?”

“Sorry Lou, Cher asked me to be her partner last class.”

“Ok so you’re a traitor, no big deal.”

Louis saw Niall’s eyes flash with worry and decided to let his friend off the hook.

“It’s fine, Niall. I’m sure there’s another lone wolf in this fine class of ours.”

Louis was contented to see his friend smile before running off towards a certain Cher Lloyd. As for him, he needed to find a new partner.

“Excuse me, Mr.Cardle?”

The man lifted his head to see who was addressing him and sighed when he was met with Louis.

“What do you need, Tomlinson?”

“Well, I don’t have a partner and instead of having the awkward task of asking each person, I decided I’d ask you if there was anyone else in need of a partner.”

 

 

 

—*—

The man ran a hand over his face. Why did this happen every time? There were enough students for everyone to have someone to work with. But yet every time he assigned partner work someone always complained of not having a partner and then two people ended up working by themselves and he had no idea why. Well… he had one idea but he hoped it wasn’t true, that the students were better than that.

“There’s an even number of students in this class last time I checked, so find your other half or work alone,” the man answered before turning back to the mess of papers strewn across his desk.

Louis turned back to the class and looked for someone by themselves. With everyone standing and moving around, he almost didn’t find anyone. But he noticed someone with dark hair huddled over their desk and seemingly looking out the window.

“Hi, I’m Louis.”

The person seemed to tense up before slowly turning around to reveal a blinking boy. “Okay…” he replied.

Louis was actually hoping the boy would tell him his name but didn’t bring it up again.

“So, Mr.Cardle said we’re partners…so howdy partner.” he tried a light joke, hoping to get the boy to smile.

“We don’t have to be. You can work on your own.” The boy spoke quietly.

“No I really can’t. You haven’t seen my English mark.” He tried at humor again, but received no response. “Besides why would I work alone when I could have you as a partner?”

The boy narrowed his eyes at him questioningly before speaking. “Because that’s how it works.” He then tilted his head to the side slightly as if making a new discovery. “Are you the new kid?”

“Yes I am actually.”

“That makes more sense,” he huffed under his breath. “You know we have to present this right?”

“Yes.”

“Like… in front of the class.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“That’s the plan.”

When it looked like the boy wasn’t going to say anymore Louis continued. “So when should we meet up?”

Just as he spoke the lunch bell rang and the boy had already slung his grey backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We aren’t working together,” the boy said before dashing out of the room.

Louis stood dumbfounded. How the hell did he end up with a partner so antisocial that they didn’t even want to work together? He had to ask his friends about the boy but he found himself wondering how he still didn’t get a name.

“Hey, Mr.Cardle?”

"Yes, Louis,” he answered without looking up from his papers.

“What’s my partner’s name?”

“Zayn Malik.”

Louis picked up his messenger bag and left the room wondering how his teacher already knew who wouldn’t have a partner yet.

 

 

—*—

Zayn picked up his pace as he ran down the art hallway. He almost felt bad for dismissing that Louis’ kid’s offer to be partners so quickly but he wasn’t going to be so naive as to think it was genuine. Could one blame him? The first time he had to do a partner project after it happened, things didn’t go very well.

When Cory, the wide receiver of the team he used to captain, had found himself as Zayn’s partner, he had not been happy.

“No fucking way,” he had spat.

But the next day after laughing in the front of the classroom door with Liam and some of the other football guys he sidled up to Zayn like they were the best of friends. Zayn had been so happy that someone was talking to him again that he didn’t think to be suspicious.

They whipped up a pretty kick ass assignment and even made a funny script for their presentation. It was safe to say that Zayn was excited.

When they stepped in front of the class Cory had shot his team mates a smile before shooting him one as well. Zayn was starting to feel like he belonged again.

They started the presentation and they were having a few problems. Cory was saying some of Zayn’s lines, jokes and information included. Zayn dismissed it as nerves causing the other boy to ramble whatever information he knew.

Zayn still remembered the way he felt when it all went south.

It had been his turn to speak again.

“During World War II, life here in America changed as w-“

“Shut up, Zayn. Don’t speak if you didn’t work, Honestly.” Cory had rolled his eyes and let his wrist hang loose like some of the girls in their class. The room erupted in laughter as their teacher Mrs. Rockwell tried to shush them.

“Now that _that’s_ been addressed,” Cory had gestured toward him with his thumb before continuing on with the presentation.

Zayn was stunned. What was going on? What did he mean by “if he didn’t work”? They both worked on it. Zayn spent the rest of the presentation in silence, staring at the amused faces of his classmates. After the presentation, when they went to take their seats, he had seen Cory high five some of the football guys before looking at him, sneering and sitting down. Zayn wasn’t aware of what else went on for the rest of the class, his gaze fixed on the clock. It was in those forty minutes that it truly sunk in that things weren’t going to back to the way they were.

The qualities that had him so popular seemed to have turned against him. The interest in art that had made him interesting and even soulful as some girls had put it, now had him recognized as an emo art kid (his change from a varsity jacket and blue jeans to a leather jacket and dark skinnies didn’t help) . His half Pakistani blood had made him seem ‘exotic’ but now all it got him was the occasional terrorist joke. His open bisexuality earned him the ‘lover not a fighter’ persona, but now it just made his peers think of him as desperate. “He’ll take anything he can get,” Andy, the team’s center, had said. The kids he had once ignored now acted as if they were better than him. Zayn was now an outcast in every way.

Growing wings did that you know?

When the bell rang he had been ready to flee to somewhere where he could be alone. Maybe even ask Ms. Walker if he could stay in the art room. But he was stopped before he could.

“Zayn. Could I speak to you for a moment?”

He spun himself around before slowly making his way to his history teacher’s desk.

“The way Cory went about his allegations were out of line, but he said them. And by policy, if it is brought to my attention that someone didn’t do their share of the assigned work, no matter how rudely it’s done, then all parties must do another assignment to make up the mark. Now seeing as you didn’t finish the presentation your assignment is going to be a little bigger than Cory’s. But he will still have to make it up.”

Zayn nodded, not wanting to acknowledge the fact Cory was getting no punishment for what he did.

It was after that incident that the 'work alone or be Zayn’s partner' phenomenon began.

Zayn always worked alone after that.

He tried to push the memories out of his mind, thinking instead of the new canvas waiting in room 114 with his name on it. He couldn’t open the door fast enough; he couldn’t keep his lady waiting could he?

He entered the room to find Ms. Maletin, their student teacher, moving some art work.

“Hello, Zayn!”

“Hey, Ms. M.”

“So…any new friends lately?”

“You know you’re all the friends I need, Ms. M.” He flashed her a smile closing his eyes and exposing all his teeth.

She rolled her eyes before she continued speaking.

“I got some of those sketching canvases you were looking at in the catalogue earlier. It’s in that paper bag there. You can take some home if you’d like. I’m sure that these hour long lunch sessions aren’t always enough.”

He thanked her before grabbing the canvas and setting up his station in the back of the room.

That’s where he always seemed to find himself these days.

In the back of the room.

 

 

—*—

“So who’s this Zayn Malik character?”

Liam choked on his Coke a little and okay that’s not quite what Louis was expecting. Niall, Danielle, Eleanor and Liam were coming over to relax after a stressful week of tests. He was only trying to keep the conversation flowing but now he was intrigued.

“You ok there, Payne?” Louis laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Niall smiled and Eleanor rolled her eyes but the atmosphere was still thick with things unspoken.

“Liam’s just a little spazz,” Eleanor said.

“I am not!”

“Sure sure, bud.”

And the question was forgotten, until they turned the corner to Louis cul de sac.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What was that, Liam?” Louis followed Liam’s line of sight, his eyes were fixed on the green and white house next to his.

“What? What is it?” Louis asked.

No one spoke until Niall finally sighed. “That’s Zayn’s house.”

“Oh…ok? Why does it matter though?”

“So what movie are we watching?” And there was Liam changing the subject again, leaving Louis wondering why Zayn was taboo.

Louis ambled over to the kitchen while Eleanor popped Horrible Bosses into the Blu Ray player.

“Hey, Louis? Need some help with that popcorn?” Danielle’s voice rang out.

Louis quirked an eyebrow. Though they hung out with the same circle of friends Danielle and Louis weren’t very close, only having a few one on one conversations and usually not about anything important. He was pretty sure she was aware that he could put some popcorn in the microwave without any assistance so she must have had something to say.

“Yeah, that’d be good thanks.”

He heard her footsteps reach the kitchen and turned around to face her.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

She smiled before answering “I knew you were smart, Louis.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“So about Zayn.”

“Oh, you mean he who should not be named?”

She smiled again but this time not quite reaching her eyes.

“Yeah, him.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“Well, sophomore year, before you came, we used to date.”

Louis felt something stir in the pit of his stomach…probably popcorn cravings. It was halfway done by this point, emitting a buttery aroma.

“I see. Well that explains Liam, but not really everybody else.”

“Yeah well, Zayn was a football player.”

Louis eyed Danielle skeptically.

“Zayn? A football player? I never pegged him for the type.”

“Yeah well, I don’t think anyone would, not with the way he is now.”

“The way he is now?”

“Zayn used to be a really fun, outgoing guy. But sometime during sophomore year he just…stopped. He stopped playing football. Stopped hanging out with friends,” she looked downcast now, “and eventually he couldn’t even talk to me.”

Louis had no response, probably because he was still slightly confused.

“What I’m trying to say is that Zayn basically cut himself off from everyone. Well he might still talk to that Harry guy from the bowling alley. He always pretended that he found him annoying but I knew he was pretty fond of him. But yeah, he’s kind of become an outcast…and an uncomfortable subject. I’m not saying you should never talk about him or anything; just…don’t expect people to warm right up to it.”

He was still lost in thought when he realized that Danielle was waiting for a response from him.

“Yeah um, sure I get it. Thanks for telling me.”

She went back to her old smile. “Good, let’s get that popcorn in there now.”

They watched the movie that he was sure must have been hilarious but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a quiet boy who seemed to murmur everything he said. Namely why he had distanced himself from his friends. There was also the issue of a project worth seven percent of their final grade that the boy refused to work on.

The following Tuesday, Louis found himself in English class again. Mr. Cardle had given them the remaining forty five minutes of the period to work on their assignment. Fifteen of which Louis had spent sitting two seats away from his hunched partner, staring straight ahead and quickly losing his patience.

“You know we actually have to work on this right?” The annoyance was apparent in Louis tone.

The other boy had been facing away from Louis, towards the window, but turned to address him.

“No. You have to work on your project and I have to work on mine. We aren’t working together,” he uttered quietly but firmly before adjusting his ever present leather jacket and turning away from Louis yet again.

“Seriously, Zayn, I need your help on this!” Louis huffed. “Geez, I thought Dani said you were nice,” he muttered under his breath.

“Dani?”

Zayn whipped his head around to face him. “As in Peazer?”

Louis leaned away from the boy in surprise from his sudden movements. Usually the kid moved like a sloth. Well, apart from when he was leaving class. He was almost lightning fast then.

“Yeah. She’s a friend of mine”

Louis watched as Zayn considered the fact, and then after a few long moments spoke his mind “Fine I’ll work with you.”

“Oh thanks, mate!”

 

 

—*—

Zayn nodded curtly in response. Though they weren’t exactly friends anymore (actually he couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to her), Zayn knew that Danielle was a pretty good judge of character (even her new boyfriend Liam was pretty cool when he wasn’t angry at him for being with Danielle. Well he guessed he was pretty cool, he hadn’t had a significant encounter with the boy since he had looked remorseful after Zayn’s presentation with Cory, but that look had to count for something). If she chose to be friends with Louis, then he couldn’t be that bad of a guy. But if Louis was friends with Danielle that also meant he was pretty high up the social ladder, definitely higher than he was. And while Louis himself might not have wanted to harm Zayn, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t be cajoled into doing something by his jock friends. Pondering those things made Zayn wary.

He looked up and saw the clock nearing lunch time and slid the nearest paper on his desk over to Louis without looking him in the eye.

“Just write your email down and then I’ll send you some stuff you should cover in your part of the essay. I’ll put it together after you send it back.”

“Lot of notes you got there.”

Zayn said nothing in return. Without much of a social life (or much to live for) Zayn poured himself not only into art but into his academics (and sometimes he bowled but that was more of a side thing ). His efforts landed him in a top-three spot in all of his classes.

“Ok,” Louis said pushing his paper back to him. “So when do we meet up?”

“We don’t.”

“Look. Even if we don’t do the essay together, which I think we should by the way, we’re going to need to work together on the creative aspect. Cardle said we had to have one.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he murmured as he gathered the sheets on his desk. He really didn’t want to see this kid more than he was obligated to.

“Cardle made it clear that he’d be asking questions. If I don’t understand it, I can’t answer them and then I will fail.”

Zayn only shook his head in response.

He wasn’t sure how he expected Louis to react but it certainly wasn’t the slow smile that stretched upon the other boy's face.

“I’ll be at your house at 6:30.”

Zayn was taken aback. What was this kid saying?

“No. You don’t even know where I live.”

“Oh, but I do.”

He narrowed his eyes at the smiling boy and before he could stop them, his thoughts had verbalized themselves.

“What are you stalking me?!” he breathed.

Zayn froze. He was not supposed to say that out loud. Of course Louis wasn’t stalking him, no one gave a shit about what he did (a fact he was pretty sure Louis was about to repeat back to him, as if he didn’t already know). Even if Louis didn’t originally plan on doing anything to him, he didn’t want to give the boy reason to. He didn’t talk back to anyone let alone people who clearly had a high social standing. If Louis got offended, Zayn could kiss his current cellophane status goodbye. He would find himself humiliated yet again.

The sound of a slightly high pitched chuckle pulled Zayn out of his despairing thoughts. Louis was laughing.

Laughing? (not yelling, scoffing, not even frowning?)

He felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders as the boy spoke.

“No, not quite.”

 

 

…

 

—*—

True to his word, Louis was knocking on the door of the house next to his at 6:33 pm (there was a funny commercial on okay). Soon the door was opening and he was met with an unnaturally clean house and a solemn boy (who was still wearing that goddamn jacket. What was it glued to his skin?). Did this kid never smile?

“Hi.”

“We can work in the study.”

“Is there someone else home? Don’t want to surprise anyone.”

“Mom’s at work.”

Louis noted the fact that Zayn didn’t mention any siblings, or his father, as he followed him up the winding staircase to a dimly lit room.

“Sorry about the lights. Haven’t gotten around to changing them to the fluorescent.”

“It’s cool.”

Zayn led him past rows of books to a round table with three chairs placed around it.

“Expecting someone else?” Louis joked.

Zayn pushed the third chair off to the side and muttered, “It was a three chair set.”

Louis cleared his throat as he dropped his bag next to a chair and took a seat. Zayn followed soon after, taking his place in front of him and pulling out his books.

“Nice place.” Louis tried once again to make conversation.

Zayn said nothing at first, keeping his head down. But then he tapped his hands on the wooden table twice before looking up.

“We don’t have to.”

“What?” Louis was confused.

“Make small talk. We don’t have to.”

“Oh.”

The boys settled into an awkward silence. Well, it was awkward for Louis, but he reckoned the quiet boy before him preferred it.

“You might want to get your books. If you want to write notes and stuff.”

Louis was puzzled for a moment before realizing that his books were in fact lying untouched in his bag next to the chair. He wordlessly took out his English notebook and his Chrysalids novel and laid them in front of him on the table.

“I was looking over the rubric and it says that it would be a good idea to write about something we found off in the book,” Louis said. If the kid didn’t want small talk he’d try and manage, but that didn’t mean Louis wasn’t going to speak at all.

“Ok.”

“There were little things, like how Elias and Joseph treated their wives. I think the attitude towards women in Labrador could have been a really good topic. But Niall told me Sharon and Emily are already doing that.”

“Ok.”

Louis was beginning to get frustrated. For a kid who dressed like some kind of hell’s angel (with a bike to match), Zayn was one of the meekest people he had ever met, and he respected that to an extent, but they had work to do. And responses of 'ok' and the occasional jacket adjustment (what was up with that anyway?) were not going to accomplish that.

“Is this how it’s going to be? With the one word answers?”

Zayn blinked at him in surprise but still said nothing.

“Look, I know you don’t really want to talk to me or whatever, but could you at least spare a few legitimate sentences for the sake of this assignment?”

Zayn still looked stunned for a few moments then mumbled something Louis couldn’t quite hear.

“Could you speak up please?”

Zayn cleared his throat and spoke again. “What about the ending?”

Louis was dazed at the sound of the boy’s voice. It was the first time he had heard him say something at a volume that was almost normal. His voice had a raspiness to it that Louis figured came from not speaking often but a low, gravelly sound that seemed all natural (and it sounded like sex). But with the way Zayn was looking expectantly at him he figured he should probably say something now.

“Um. Wha-what _about_ the ending?” His voice sounded high pitched even to his own ears. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I mean, the ending seemed like a pretty nice wrap up. Rosalind, David and Petra go to somewhere where they can be safe. There is the issue of Michael and Rachel, but even if they couldn’t go to Zealand, they’d have each other, which is what they wanted right?”

Zayn seemed to gain more interest, leaning forward in his chair and making muted gestures with his hands.

“The fate of Michael and Rachel is questionable but that’s not the real problem. It’s the woman from Zealand. She killed most of the Labrador community.”

“She felt threatened. For herself and for Petra and them.”

Zayn shook his head. Louis had to admit, even though it was only about their project, he was glad that Zayn was talking to him. It was kind of nice.

“No. I-I think that she killed them because she deemed them inferior.”

“Inferior?”

Zayn nodded. “It was basically genocide.”

Louis sighed happily. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a research topic.”

Zayn breathed a pleased laugh as he leaned back in his chair.

They stayed in silence for a while before Louis decided to push his luck a little. Zayn said he didn’t want small talk but Louis only wanted to lighten the atmosphere; make it a little less formal. Zayn seemed like he could be a cool guy if he just gave Louis the chance to get to know him.

“So uh,” Louis gestured towards Zayn. “What’s with the jacket?”

He watched in slight confusion as Zayn seemed to withdraw upon himself. The dark haired lad leaned back in his chair, away from Louis, and fingered absentmindedly at the hem of his jacket.

“It’s uh-it's getting kind of late.” The usual quiet murmuring had returned. “Your family might be waiting for you…or something.”

Louis took that as his cue to leave. He slowly put his books back into his bag, cursing himself for pushing too far, too quickly.

“Yeah. I guess I should probably head back.”

Hearing soft footsteps behind him, he descended the stairs and treaded out of the house.

“Hey.”

He heard a hoarse voice behind him. It wasn’t very loud and if he had been a few steps farther away he probably would have missed it. He turned around to find an uncomfortable looking Zayn.

“See you Friday?”

Louis smiled at the way Zayn had posed it as a question( as if Louis would say no).

“See you then.”

 

 

—*—

Zayn leaned his head against the door after shutting it, releasing a relieved sigh. It wasn’t totally because of Louis over friendliness, (in fact it wasn’t about Louis friendliness at all, he actually kind of liked having a peer who actually wanted to hear him speak) it was due to the fact that that day had been one of the longest he had kept his wings bound. Normally he would have stripped off the gauze soon after he got home, but with Louis there he had to keep them under wraps. Needless to say, it had been uncomfortable.

He ascended the stairs, walking past the study and into his room. Shutting the door he thrust off his leather jacket. Though they provided concealment of his wings and a small sense of comfort there was an underlying loathe for the garment. It was a heavy reminder of his constant need to hide; not only his new appendages, but himself. He put so much work into flying under the radar (no pun intended), even more than the work he used to put in to stay popular.

After chucking his jacket onto his dresser Zayn strode into his bathroom and locked the door to experience the best part of his day. He quickly threw off his grey t-shirt and looked in the mirror. He blew out a breath as he took in his reflection. He was wrapped in tan bandages from under his collarbones to just above his pelvis.

He thumbed the silver safety pin at his side before unhinging it, leaving a bandage hanging limp. He slowly unwrapped the gauze until his wings were unrestrained.

He took another deep breath before stretching them out. He smiled, feeling infinitely more relaxed. Normally he would have set up some easels in his room and tried to make something of his frustration, but he and Louis had worked pretty late into the night and he just wanted to sleep. Checking that his door was locked, he took off his dark jeans threw on a baggy Parachute t-shirt (just in case), took out his contacts and climbed into bed.

 

 

…

 

—*—

“What about Aiden?”

Louis laughed at Eleanor’s proposal. They were all sitting around their usual lunch table when the conversation, much to Louis dismay, switched to his love life.

“'Crush on Mr.Cardle' Aiden? I think not.”

Eleanor frowned slightly but then turned to Danielle to think of more prospects.

“What about Josh? Josh Devine.”

Louis turned to Liam who had his arm around Danielle. There was nothing wrong with Josh, Louis just wasn’t feeling it. He wasn’t feeling anyone recently, but he was fine with that. His friends however seemed to love the idea of setting him up.

“I’m really not interested in dating right now, guys. I’ll just lay low for a while…focus on school or something, maybe volunteer, and when the time comes I’ll date.” He paused to look at them pointedly before slowing his voice. “Okay?”

His friends looked put out but Niall was the one who broke the silence “Ok.”

“Thank you.” Louis smiled before turning back to his sandwich. “So was I the only one who noticed Ms.Nicholson’s fly was down the entire morning?”

The group erupted in laughter and they continued discussing faculty wardrobe malfunctions until the bell rang.

“Hey, want to hang out today? Cheerleading practice is canceled.” Danielle stopped the group before they parted. Everyone seemed receptive to the idea, especially since most Fridays Danielle was at her practice. He would have been ecstatic at the prospect of the whole gang hanging out on a Friday, but he had told Zayn he’d come today. Zayn had actually asked him, and he couldn’t let the boy down now.

“Sorry, Dani, I can’t.”

His friends looked puzzled at him while Danielle had a slight frown.

“I really wish I could come but I’m supposed to work on Cardle’s English project with Zayn.”

Louis noted Liam’s tension at the name and the way everyone was having trouble making eye contact with him all of a sudden. Danielle broke the awkward silence.

“Well…ok. Next time then,” she shrugged before heading off to her locker with Liam. Eleanor and Niall heading off to their own soon after.

Ok?

 

 

…

 

—*—

Zayn threw his leg over the seat of his bike and rotated his hands on the rubber. He hadn’t originally wanted a motorcycle. In fact last year he had been set on having a car. His mom had been travelling more often and he guessed she felt bad because on his birthday she gave him some money and said “You wanted a car right?” The money he had gotten was enough for a used car but he wanted something a little nicer so he had been saving. When the wings grew, he put the car plan on hold, opting to walk instead. But as the weather got colder, it became more and more inconvenient to be walking. The colder his wings got, the more they twitched, attempting to flap and create heat. The appendages were still fairly recent and he had trouble sitting comfortably in cars. The situation got more and more frustrating for him, not leaving the house on cold days to avoid any incidents. It got very old, very fast. He liked staying at home, but he liked staying at home out of choice, not because his wings were restricting him in yet another way.

He had been watching a random movie at home when the idea came to him. The character had been cruising down the street on a motorcycle, wind in his hair, back to the camera.

Back to the camera.

Immediately, he pulled out his laptop and searched how to get a motorcycle licence in his area. Three months later he was riding a V-Star 650 Silverado to and from school. Eventually he became comfortable with the wings and could ride in cars, but he preferred the laxity of his bike.

Currently he was riding it back home to get ready for his meeting with Louis later that evening. The day before, in class, they had worked out their rough copy and assigned portions and each were supposed to bring their written part that day to put it together.

He shut the door and was surprised to find his mom leaning on the kitchen island eating spooning at a yogurt cup. He figured she had just got in as she was still in her power suit and her hair was in a messy bun.

She smiled when she looked up and saw Zayn.

“Hey, how was school?”

His heart warmed a little at his mother’s words. She worked hard and he hardly saw her at home, when he did she was usually working in her office or sleeping. He knew she cared but it was nice when she actually voiced it.

“It was good," he lied as he sat on the stool opposite her.

With all the things his mom had to worry about he didn’t want to add himself to the list, so he never told her about his new life at school (and definitely not about the wings. What if they would make her scared of him?) She had once asked why she hadn’t been seeing Danielle much lately (“We broke up” “Oh…are you okay?” “Yeah mom don’t worry” “Alright”) and made passing comments in the change of clothing but nothing major.

“That’s good.” She smiled again but this one faded quickly.

“Everything okay?" he asked as he dropped his bag next to a high chair and took a seat.

“I got a promotion.”

“That’s great, mom.” He tried his best to smile

“I’m going to be travelling more often.” She looked up at him to gage his reaction.

“Well yeah, I figured.” He couldn’t stop his face from falling a little.

“But it won’t be right away.” She spoke quickly trying to salvage his initial good mood. “They’re going to have a system so it won’t be as random. My first trip is in late March and it’ll be a week and then one in July but that one will be for two.” She cringed as she said the words. “You can stay with your aunt Janice during that one if you wa-“

“No mom, it’s fine.” He mustered some enthusiasm for her benefit.

He saw that she opened her mouth to speak again when the doorbell rang. He raised his index finger to say ‘just a minute’ before hopping off the stool and walking towards the door. He was puzzled as to who could be visiting his house but it came back to him when he opened the door and saw a tan feather haired boy standing on his doorstep.

Oh yeah, him.

“Hey,” Louis lifted up a notebook, “brought my stuff.”

“Oh, good.” His murmuring returned as he opened the door wider.

“Zayn who is it?” He heard his mom yelling from behind him.

“Oh your mum’s here?” Louis smiled wide. Zayn was actually worried this kid might be on drugs because honestly who smiled this much?

He shut the door while Louis walked closer to the source of the sound.

“Hello Ms…” Louis trailed off.

Zayn laughed inwardly at Louis not knowing what to say, it didn’t seem to happen often. His parents had gotten divorced when he was seven years old; they had been married for ten years. At first he had been angry about it, as any child would, but as he grew older the anger dissipated. In the beginning all his parents had told him was that it wasn’t his fault, but that wasn’t sufficient for him to think it was due to any reason other than himself. When his frustration reached a boiling point, him punching a kid who asked where his dad was, his parents finally sat him down and explained that they had gotten married too early and were having doubts by the second year of marriage.

(“We were too young, your mother and I, and money was always tight.” “At one point your father even volunteered to be a subject for new drug testing.” “Oh yeah, I once tested these supplements that used bird hormones to help weight loss.” “There were hardly any changes.” “Except for this one thing with my sper-“ “I don’t think he’s ready for that word yet.” “Oh sorry, there was only one change…but when I asked they wouldn’t tell me anything.” “Yeah, that was the end of that.” “But anyway what we’re trying to say is things were bad from the beginning.” “It wasn’t you.”) They had hoped having him would draw them closer together and though it didn’t work they didn’t regret it (“Not for one second okay Zaynie?”) When he had actually been given a reason and not just an assurance that it wasn’t him he was able to accept the situation.

Later he was even grateful for it when he realized how much happier they both were after the divorce. His parents never took the issue of custody to court, choosing joint custody right away. His dad’s new apartment was nearby so he could spend two weeks at each house. When his dad lost his job, it turned into just weekend visits to his dad’s place (he wouldn’t take any money from his mom. ‘Malik pride’ she had called it). Eventually his dad got a job, in New York, so he only visited on the holidays. It put a strain on their relationship but whenever they were together they both tried to make the best of it (his dad took time off work and Zayn tried his best not to be moody). He had been anxious about going to stay with his dad the summer after his wings grew (which only made the parts act out more) but eventually he was able to get it under control.

“Just call me Patricia,” his mom chuckled.

“Oh, ok. Hello, Patricia. I’m Louis Tomlinson.” He put his hand out for her to shake, which she did.

“Oh do you live next door?”

“That would be me.”

That sly bastard, so that’s how he knew where Zayn lived.

“Are you a friend of Zayn’s?”

“Uh,” Louis hesitated and looked almost hopefully at Zayn.

“We’re just working on a project together,” Zayn interjected, noticing his mother’s way too excited grin(and pretending not to see Louis’ little frown at his words).

“Alright then, I’ll let you guys get to that.”

“I’ll just go upstairs,” Louis said to Zayn without looking at him. “Nice meeting you Patricia.”

“You too, Louis.”

The boy smiled before pulling his bag up on his shoulder and heading up the stairs.

Zayn reached down to pick up his bag, when he rose up he saw his mother mouthing the word ‘cute’ at him and pointing her thumb upwards. Zayn only narrowed his eyes and shrugged as if to say 'If you say so' before going up the stairs himself.

When he entered the room he found Louis already sitting in a seat and flipping through some papers. He seemed to have heard him come in because he turned around, acknowledged his presence and then went back to his papers.

Zayn dismissed the unusual brush off (he couldn’t expect him to keep trying to be his friend forever) and took the seat across from him.

“So you want to put it together?” Zayn spoke at a higher volume than he did at school, having the assurance that Louis actually wanted to hear his voice.

“Sure.” Louis ripped the two sheets with his part from his notebook without looking at Zayn.

Maybe not.

Zayn opened his bag and pulled out his notebook as well, flipping to the dog eared page with his portion before sliding it closer to Louis papers.

“Here’s mine.” Zayn spoke quieter. Louis seemed to be a bit upset with him, making his confidence shrink a bit.

It wasn’t until he mumbled those words that he realized the condition of the paper. Surrounding his myriad of notes were absent minded doodles he used to keep sane through the class.

Louis looked up from his fingers and saw Zayn’s book before he could pull it away.

“Cool doodles.” He ran his fingers over the indented tribal design in the margin. “You draw?” Louis asked and looked up to meet Zayn’s gaze.

Zayn forced a tight smile and nodded. Louis interest seemed to die down.

“Right. I forgot. No small talk.”

Though he didn’t quite like Louis tone, Zayn made no move to correct him. That is what he had said after all.

They spent the next few hours typing up the final copy of the essay and working on the video for the creative aspect.

“Zayn, speak up.”

They were using Audacity to put voice overs on their creative point, a video. They had picked the images already and strung them together; all that was left was the audio. Louis had recorded his first part already and it was Zayn’s turn.

“We can raise the volume on it later,” Zayn offered.

Louis shook his head. “But you’re mumbling. It’ll just be loud mumbling and Cardle won’t be able to understand it.”

Zayn almost rolled his eyes at Louis pettiness (because was he honestly going to give him a hard time about this?) but it seemed he was really upset about something so he acquiesced. That however, did not mean he wasn’t going to have a little fun with it.

Putting on his best overly dramatic soap opera voice, he spoke.

“John Wyndham didn’t end The Chrysalids on a happy note. Though it seems like it to most, because of how well things end up for David, Rosalind and Petra, the conclusion was rather grim. The woman from Zealand committed mass murder on almost half of a community.”

After pressing the stop button and taking off his headphones he addressed Louis. “There. Happy?”

Louis seemed stunned for a while but blinked it off and replied. “Yeah…thanks”

The boys spent the next hour and a half recording the rest of the video and putting it together with the audio as well as putting together a short class presentation on the process of creating the project.

By 8:30 pm they were wrapping up, not quite done enough for them to stop working but not the type of work that actually required their attention to accomplish. Busy work almost. The room was overcome by silence and it was kind of making Zayn uncomfortable. Don’t get him wrong, silence was his friend as he was usually by himself (or in a room full of people who pretended he wasn’t there). But with just two people it made his skin itch. So he spoke.

“I paint some too.”

“Huh?” Louis looked up from the keyboard with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You asked me if I drew. I do. And I paint some too.”

What the hell was he doing? Couldn’t he have asked about classes or something?

“Oh,” Louis drew back from the keys, sitting back in the chair. “that’s cool. What are you into?”

“I’m kind of all over the place, but I do mostly cartoons and abstract stuff.”

Why was he still talking?

Louis nodded his head slowly in response.

“I’m ok at surrealism, but I’m pretty shit at realism. Ms. Matelin’s helping me out with that.”

“Huh.” Louis breathed, almost to himself

“What?”

“I kind of thought the opposite. When you said you drew I pictured you like, drawing fruit and naked people and that kind of shit.”

Zayn coughed and laughed a little. “No, that’s not me.”

“Well I’m sure you’d be good if you tried.”

“Ha,” he scoffed. “Not really. You should see them.”

He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. He hadn’t meant it seriously but from the way Louis’ face lit up Zayn could tell that the boy was interested. Zayn hadn’t showed his artwork to anyone other than his teachers and his mom in a long time (though he hadn’t had anyone to show them to in a long time either). And as much as he wanted to withdraw the statement he knew he couldn’t. He had to remember why he was working with Louis in the first place, to keep from offending him and keep his name off yet another person's shitlist.

“Really? Can I?”

“Y-yeah, come on.” Zayn’s unease caused his wings to flutter. Trying his best to keep them under control he led Louis to his art room across from the study. He didn’t really spend much time in there as he did most of the actual work in his own room. He only used the room as storage for finished pieces or pieces he was having trouble with, but he wasn’t going to let Louis into his bedroom. True, the boy was the first person (that was actually his age) Zayn had spoken the most to since March of last year, but he still didn’t know him very well.

Upon opening the door, Zayn adjusted the light dial and the room was filled with a soft light.

“Haven’t gotten to changing the lights in here either?”

“No. I prefer it like this.”

Louis came up from behind him and turned his attention to an acrylic painting he had created during the summer before the current school year. The canvas was filled with blending bright colors. Greens and yellows and soft blues all united by the egg shell white he had gone over all of it with. When he had finished the painting it had looked picture perfect.

Too perfect.

His own painting made him feel like he shouldn’t be a part of it. It exuded serenity and it wasn’t him. In a rage he had grabbed a brush, dipped it in black acrylic and made a crude splotch, grinding the brush into the canvas. After he lifted the brush it didn’t look quite so perfect anymore, less unsettling. He liked it that way.

“This is really cool,” Louis said quietly.

It really wasn’t the most informed of compliments. From what he could tell the boy didn’t really know much about art. Louis couldn’t really comment on techniques and skill the way his teachers could, but that didn’t stop the warm feeling from seeping into his stomach. Maybe it was the fact he was hearing it from a peer.

Or maybe it was something else.

 

 

…

Two days later they presented their project, showing the video to the class before handing it in to Mr.Cardle. The presentation went pretty well (though by the little side looks Louis was giving him, Zayn wasn’t speaking loudly enough), without laughing or jeers (Zayn should have expected it; he went from being a joke to being taboo. People preferred to pretend he wasn’t there).

At the end of the class Louis actually packed up before Zayn and ran to the door. But he didn’t leave before turning around and giving him a slight wave and a small smile.

It felt a little more meaningful than it should have.

 

 

…

 

—*—

Louis had enjoyed getting to know Zayn, when the boy gave him a chance, but with the project over he had no real excuse to do so. He doubted Zayn would let him in his house without a legitimate reason. He had tried other ways, starting a conversation in class (Zayn wouldn’t reply, he didn’t even like talking to Louis when he had to), asking to borrow a rake, (Zayn just disappeared into his house, came back, handed him the rake and then shut the door without a single word. It was November, and the streets were covered in snow) but none really worked.

“What do you think, Lou?”

Louis was shaken out of his stupor by Liam’s voice.

“Sorry what?”

“Mini golf? After school?” Liam raised his eyebrows at Louis’ behaviour

“Oh yeah. What time?”

“Um…” Liam looked around to the rest of the group.

“Tuesdays I’ve got Alder Gazette, but it’s a short meeting. We should be done by four.” Eleanor said

“So 5:30?” Liam said

The lunch table resounded in 'Good for me's and 'sure's.

“Um, fam, I have no idea where your mini golf place is,” Louis voiced his concern jokingly.

“How ‘bout I come by your house ‘round 5 and we’ll walk there,” Niall pitched.

“Thanks, lucky.”

“No problem, rainbow.”

 

…

At 5:02pm Niall was knocking on Louis’ door. Waving goodbye to his family,(“Did you take out the garbage Lou?” “Yeah, mum, bye”) he closed the door behind him and pulled his sweater closer to his body.

“How far is this place, mate?”

“Not far. Don’t be such a girl,” Niall laughed.

“Shut up,” Louis laughed, shoving his friends shoulder. He turned his head at the sound of a door opening. Behind him was Zayn in black skinnies, sneakers and holding a garbage bag. For once he wasn’t wearing that leather jacket but a baggy grey sweatshirt, (which fit him pretty well if you asked Louis) and thick framed glasses.

“Hey.” Louis smiled at the dark haired boy.

Zayn hesitated at first, and if Louis wasn’t watching him so intently he would have missed it, but then lifted his hand slightly, warily. He seemed to notice that Niall was standing next to him as he slowly let his hand go limp and went to his garage to, Louis assumed, get the garbage bin.

Niall cleared his throat, causing Louis to realize that he was staring at the space Zayn used to occupy. He turned his body away from Zayn’s door, his head taking a bit longer as his eyes were still trained to the spot, and walked a few steps to where Niall was.

“You know him now?” Niall said as they got back in step.

“English project remember?”

Niall nodded his head tightly. They stayed in silence for a couple minutes of walking, their usual comfortable silence plagued with something Louis couldn’t quite recognize.

“Do you like waffles?” Niall asked him with a somber expression. It took a while for Louis to figure out what the hell was going on but when he did he suppressed a smile.

“Yes I like waffles!” He singsonged with his own dire expression

“Do you like pancakes?” Niall sang.

“Yes I like PANCAKES!”

Though they never addressed the issue, Louis was happy to go back to joking with Niall as opposed to whatever that thing they were doing before it was.

It was about 10:00 pm when Louis was heading home after schooling Liam, having his ass handed to him by Eleanor, and having a good pizza and shit talk session with his best friends. He and Niall had already split up and Louis was walking on his own when the exhaustion really hit him. He was practically crawling by the time he neared his home. He knew it was stupid as soon as he did it, but he looked up towards the Malik’s home. He wasn’t sure what exactly sure what he was looking for but when the house showed no signs of activity he shrugged softly and entered into his own home.

 

 

…

The next week, on a Saturday, Louis found himself sitting home bored and alone. Liam had an important paper due for his economics class, Eleanor and Danielle were having a ‘girls day’ and Niall had a family gathering, leaving Louis up to his own devices. He played with his sisters for some time, but eventually they left him in favor of watching a Big Time Rush marathon.

He was lying upside down with his head hanging off the edge of the couch when he heard his phone buzz. He was on his feet in an instant (albeit slightly dizzy), dashing to his phone.

 

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 2:32pm**

**OMG Lou. This is d most boring thing evar**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 2:33pm**

**Hahaha serves u right 4 leaving me alone Horan**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints 2:40pm**

**F u man. They made us put our phones in a basket @the door. Sumtin bout how they wanted us to connect. We arent even eating anymore. Mom’s jst tlking 2 my aunts dwnstairs and me n my cousins r up here**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 2:42pm**

**Ha sucks..wait so how r u txtin me now?**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 2:51pm**

**I have my ways…jk told em i wanted to nap and grabed my phone from the bsket on my way up. Im on my side so they wont c the light. Thats y my replies are takin so long**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 2:52pm**

**Lol it’s ok**

Louis continued texting back and forth with Niall until the conversation reached that lull where they had told each other what happened while they were apart and were now spitting out stupidity.

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:26pm**

**Nope**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:27pm**

**Yup**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:28pm**

**Nope**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:29pm**

**Yup**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:31pm**

**Look mate, no1 calls me the sass master. Srsly wat is that even?**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:34pm**

**They do! Bet you $5. Ur just sassy lou**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:35pm**

**Ur about 2 b $5 poorer horan.**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:40pm**

**Ha u wish. But srsly man ur just going to sit @ home? It’d b diffrnt if u wanted 2 but u obv. don’t. Y don’t u do sumtin?**

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:41pm**

**Like what? :(**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:45pm**

**Idk go to a movie, clean sumtin, go to the park SOMETHING!**

Louis looked at the screen of his iPhone, contemplating Niall’s suggestion. A random thought popped into his head (well maybe not random…maybe an idea that wasn’t fully formed)

**To Lucky Mc.Pints, 4:37pm**

**Got any bowling alleys around here?**

**From Lucky Mc.Pints. 4:52pm**

**Umm there’s Strikezone and Paul’s Pins. Most ppl like Strikezone though**

Louis was in the middle of typing the word thanks when the next text came in

**From Lucky Mc.Pints 4:52**

**Shit g2g mom says i gotta play charades FML**

He let the light from his screen slowly fade to black as he sighed, fumbling for the remote.

He had been watching game show reruns for God knows how long and his brain felt like it was melting. He glanced at the clock (6:04pm) and cast his eyes back to the TV. His eyebrow quirked up, something was out of place. He looked back at the spot he had glanced over and saw a rake.

Huh.

 

 

…

 

—*—

Zayn thrust his hand forward, letting the ball slip off of his fingers and onto the slick surface of the alley.

He had been feeling extra melancholy that particular Saturday. He was accustomed to the silence but once in a while the loneliness of his situation would hit him all at once. He didn’t have any projects that he hadn’t already perfected and everything he tried to sketch (or paint) felt mediocre. So he threw on his leather jacket (that fucking jacket), a helmet and got on his bike, riding all the way to Paul’s Pins. There were two bowling alleys in town but no one really liked coming to Paul’s Pins. At one point, he didn’t either. With it’s stained carpets, dirty windows, that old man smell,

“Zaynie!”

And annoying staff.

He picked up another ball, trying to pretend he never heard the voice. But that became impossible when a mess of curly hair popped up beside him.

“Vashappenin Zayn?”

“Don’t.”

Harry had referenced the silly catchphrase he used sophomore year, back when people would actually tell him (back when he was happy). He knew the curly haired boy was only joking but it stung a little. Harry turned to look at him, confused by his actions but nodded his head in understanding when he saw Zayn’s expression.

Rolling the new ball, Zayn saw Harry sit down in the U of leather of seats surrounding his isle (that’s usually where friends are supposed to sit).

“Did you miss me, little buddy? I missed you.”

“Two years does not make me little…and I’m not your buddy.”

When Zayn had initially come to Paul’s he had been the way he was at school, quiet and non confrontational. Harry had been extra friendly and Zayn hoped his stoic silence throughout the first visit would give the employee a clue to how this was supposed to work.

It didn’t.

The next time he visited, about two weeks later, there Harry was again. Trying to make conversation like his life depended on it (and constantly talking about how he coveted Zayn’s ‘snazzy’ jacket). Eventually he just started babbling off to Zayn while he bowled. It reached a boiling point when he started talking about his love of cats (“Would you actually just shut up already?” “Saucy, I think I’ll keep this one Perrie!”…”Was that cat thing a metaphor?” “A metaphor?” “You know…for…” “Aah you catch on quick…but I really do have a cat though, Dusty.”)

After that, Paul’s became his venting place when the pencils and paintbrushes just weren’t doing it for him. Granted, some of that misplaced anger got directed at Harry, but the college student seemed to understand what Paul’s Pins was to Zayn after a few visits so he never took it personally. (Especially when the curly haired girl stopped coming with him)

“I beg to differ. So, any new pals lately?”

“Shouldn’t you be shining shoes or something?”

“Very funny,” Harry said to Zayn’s back, “but someone’s actually standing at the front booth so I’m going to have to hear the rest of this comedy show later.”

Someone at Paul’s? Zayn looked at the watch on his right hand. At 7:00 pm on a Saturday? His curiosity overpowered his inconspicuous nature and he turned around. He was a little less surprised than he should have been to see a shock of bright red in the form of chinos and feathered hair.

Louis.

 

 

—*—

This exchange didn’t go unnoticed to the college boy. He didn’t know why Zayn sent a lingering look towards the boy in the striped shirt, looking around, probably wondering if anybody even worked here, but he intended to have some fun with it.

Hey, not a lot of people worked at Paul’s Pins, he was there a lot. Who could blame him for wanting a little amusement? (Perrie was no fun.)

“Hey, do you work here?” a slightly raspy voice said. British, nice.

“That’s what the uniform implies.”

“Oh, sorry, dumb question…uh,” he leaned towards Harry’s chest and squinted. “Harry.”

“No problem Brit,” Harry laughed as he sat on the front desk, hurling himself onto the other side.

“What size are you?” he asked with his back to the boy, scanning the shoes so he could hand them over quickly and rejoin Zayn.

After a couple of seconds of not receiving an answer, Harry turned around. He found the Toms clad boy looking away from the front desk. Harry leaned his body to the right, trying to see what the other boy was watching so intently. His amusement doubled when he saw that the boy in red pants was looking at his boy Zayn (he would continue to call Zayn his boy, no matter his boy’s protests).

Oh, this was going to be good.

The boy seemed to come back into reality and Harry leaned back to avoid startling him.

“Sorry, mate, what was that?”

“Mate, very British. I like it.” (the boy laughed, because Harry was just that charismatic) “I asked your siz.e”

“Oh.”

Harry got the boy all sorted out and directed him to an isle.

“Use…eight. Next to that guy in the jacket there,” Harry pointed towards Zayn, smiling smugly to himself.

Harry stifled a laugh as the boy tensed.

“Are you sure I can’t use nine?”

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Shy was he? He saw this kid’s game. Stay one isle away so it’s not as awkward but he still had a good view.

“Sorry, man, it’s out of order.” He saw the boy was about to speak again and beat him to it, “and so is five.”

Harry knew he couldn’t say that every other isle wasn’t working but, if he read him right, the feather haired boy wouldn’t want an isle farther away.

“Okay then,” Toms boy sighed, “Thanks.”

Fun indeed.

 

 

—*—

Zayn saw Louis moving towards the isle next to him in his peripherals. Other than a couple of old ladies occupying isle three, there were a bunch of open ones. The situation had Harry written all over it, the little shit.

They spent about five minutes in deliberate silence, only the sounds of pins crashing and bowling shoes squeaking filling the air (and some not-so-mild old lady chatter). Zayn wasn’t sure if it was the change in environment or his annoyance at the general situation, but something made him speak.

“So are we just going to keep pretending we don’t know each other?” Zayn rolled the ball forward and turned his head to quickly glance at Louis, who seems to have dropped his ball at the sound of Zayn’s voice.

Zayn turned around to go grab a ball for the last two pins and heard a chuckle that seemed to be coming from Louis.

“I thought you would have preferred it.”

Zayn shrugged as he let the ball go, still not sparing another glance at the other boy.

“Under normal circumstances you would be right.”

Now he could feel eyes that he assumed were Louis’ on the side of his face (and eyes that he bet were Harry’s on the back of his head) but he gave no direct attention to either.

“Normal circumstances,” Louis said slowly. He didn’t inflect the end of his sentence but Zayn could feel the questioning nature of the words.

“Yes,” Zayn spoke, hearing the crash of Louis pins.

“What are normal circumstances?”

Roll.

“When I’m surrounded by people who ignore me-or think I’m crazy-or both.”

Strike. Turn around and get a new ball.

Zayn was pretty sure he didn’t mean to divulge all of that to Louis but it’s not like it wasn’t true. He had suddenly withdrawn himself from his whole world and came back a different person. Some (maybe most) thought he had gone off the deep end, and he didn’t blame them.

Louis was looking at him again, but from slightly behind him (getting a new ball), allowing Zayn to see him from the corner of his eye without turning around. His expression looked careful.

Roll.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“I’ve noticed, that’s why I’m talking to you”

Louis was smiling now, striding forwards with his green ball. It went silent again and Zayn was feeling brave enough to joke.

“Or you’re just crazy too.”

Louis laughed now (as much as Zayn liked the smile, he thought he liked the laugh better).

“Maybe.”

Spare.

Zayn continued bowling. He wasn’t going to be the one to push the conversation further (a conversation he shouldn’t have started in the first place).

Louis spoke.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Bowling.” He considered stopping there but it seemed Louis was really trying to keep the conversation going, and he was feeling adventurous (and he liked talking to Louis). “What are you doing here?”

Get a new ball.

“Friends are busy, sisters are rushers.”

Roll.

Zayn was going to press why Louis would choose this hellhole to alleviate his boredom but decided he had no right to ask, considering he was in the same place (and he’d rather not give his reasons). Plus he had another question. “Care to explain what the hell rushers are?”

Louis got a strike.

“You know, like Big Time Rush?”

Zayn spent the next hour bowling with no real drive and chatting (that’s right he chatted) aimlessly with Louis. The kid wasn’t half bad.

When his watch read 8:26 pm he walked back to the front desk where Harry was happily not working.

“Shoes and helmet please,” he said to the curly haired boy as he turned his attention to slipping off the neon bowling shoes on his feet. When he brought his head back up with the shoes hanging loosely off of his fingers he was met with an amused looking Harry.

“Harry,” he waved the shoes around, “my stuff.”

“Right, right.” The boy disappeared from his view and resurfaced holding his black converse and helmet.

“Thanks." He set his helmet down and reached for his shoes but they were pulled out of his reach. He gave Harry his best ‘you’re not funny’ face as he waited for the boy’s sure to be stupid reasoning.

“So who’s that?”

Zayn looked over his shoulder at Louis who seemed to be going for a five strike streak (the boy was good).

“Him?”

Harry nodded, smiling.

“That’s Louis. He goes to my school.”

Harry wagged his eyebrows suggestively, which in turn caused Zayn to scrunch up his own in obvious distaste at the boy’s actions.

“Can I get my shoes now?”

“Fine.” The pouting employee pushed Zayn’s shoes towards him.

“Thank you.” Zayn dropped the bowling shoes on the desk and put on his converse.

He felt as if he should say bye to Louis, he _had_ just spent roughly an hour and a half talking to the guy. But he didn’t quite feel comfortable yelling his goodbye across the centre or walking all the way back to him (especially with Harry prowling). He turned around and was (pleasantly?) surprised to see that the boy in question was looking back at him. He raised his hand weakly but it seemed to be enough for Louis who smiled (why does he smile so much?) and waved back.

Feeling slightly disoriented he turned around abruptly, running his thumb over the keys in his pocket as he exited to the sad excuse for a parking lot. He cut through the grass to the Syconvenience next door. (An old friend of his dad’s, Lydia, worked there and always tried to catch up whenever he came by. Whenever he left she’d call after him to get back in. It was nice having someone actually enjoy his company.)

 

 

—*—

Harry laughed to himself as he watched Zayn leave the alley. It wasn’t often he got to see his friend that way.

“Oh my lawd, Perrie, did you see that?”

The blond girl looked disinterested as she shook her head, not turning to look at Harry. “Don’t meddle, Harry.”

“Too late.”

Harry walked up to the front of the booth and sucked in a big breath.

“Closing time!”

He watched Louis startle and roll his ball into the gutter. By the time the boy was coming towards the front desk Harry already had Louis’ shoes ready.

“I thought you guys closed at nine?”

The boy looked confused as he slipped off his shoes.

“Uhh, me and Perrie have a family emergency.”

“You guys are brother and sister?” Louis said as he put on his Toms and jacket.

It was nice that the kid tried to talk to him, as opposed to Zayn who he had to pressure, but Zayn’s ritual (marshmallows from the Syco next door) only lasted so long. He wanted to see if he could cause just one more awkward situation for Zayn before the end of the night, even if it was just bumping into each other in the parking lot.

“Um…distant-like very distant cousins.”

“Ok then…well, hope everything turns okay.”

“Yeah, yeah me too bye,” he said as he lightly pushed Louis forward. He resisted clapping for himself as the feather haired boy left the building. (“Did you just tell that kid we were cousins?” “Shut up it was for Zayn. Like I’d want to be related to you.”)

 

 

—*—

Zayn opened the door of the Syco and stepped out into the November night (“Get back here!” Lydia yelled), bell chiming as he went. He saw a figure exit Paul’s as he neared his bike. He would have dismissed it had he not seen the shock of red (even at night, the chinos shone bright).

“Louis?”

The boy whipped his head around “Oh hey, Zayn.”

“Leaving already?”

Louis walked closer to where he was “Yeah, they’re closing up early. Harry and Perrie had a family emergency.”

“A family emergency?”

“Yeah. They’re cousins, did you know?”

Ha, no. He was pretty sure they weren’t but he’d ask them about it another time. (“You and Harry are cousins?” “Nope, Harry just likes to meddle.” “Ah.”)

At his lack of response, Louis continued to speak.

“So I’m going to head off now.”

“Ok.”

“To the bus shelter.”

“Ok.”

“In the cold.”

“Alright.”

“At night.”

“…”

“…”

“Would you like a ride?”

“Oh, well if you’re offering.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at Louis failed attempt at subtle suggestion. He made his way over to where his bike was parked but turned around when the footsteps behind him stopped abruptly. When he turned around he found Louis wide eyed and looking a little pale.

“I forgot you had a bike.”

Zayn gave him a look that read ‘ok thank you for that piece of information’ and sat on the faux leather seat. When Louis still hadn’t gotten on he looked up.

“Maybe I should just take the bus.”

He watched Louis expression carefully and replied when he put two and two together.

“Are you…scared?”

The other boy’s cheeks pinked slightly.

“What? No.”

“Then get on.”

Louis looked wary, but he slowly got onto the Silverado. Sitting as far back as possible

Zayn wordlessly handed his helmet to the boy and started the engine

“Wait, what are you going to use?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen,” he shouted over the rumble of the engine. In all honesty he wasn’t sure that nothing was going to happen (but he knew that there was another life on his bike and his own was expendable)

He began to ride forward and when Louis’ fingers flew to grip his waist tightly and he felt the boy’s chest towards the top of his wings, he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. He couldn’t very well tell the boy that maybe it was best he take the bus after all so he sat slowly slipped forward in the bike. Louis would still have the security of something to hold onto but wouldn’t be able to feel his back (more specifically the wings on his back).

His adjustment was pretty effective up until he turned the corner towards their houses, which he guessed frightened Louis because the boy suddenly pressed himself against Zayn’s back and his grip around Zayn’s stomach doubled. Before Zayn could really panic, Louis was off of the bike and breathing hard.

“Remind me to,” he pulled the helmet off, “to never get on that death trap again.”

Zayn’s anxiety dissipated as he took in Louis’ terrified expression and heavy breathing. He laughed.

It was little but it seemed to make Louis feel better as the terror in his eyes receded and he laughed as well.

“Don’t worry, you’re a horrible bike partner.”

Louis hand flew to his chest as he put on a dramatically outraged expression.

“That hurts me, Zayn.” He patted his chest. “That hurts me right here.”

By his normal behaviour (as in not screaming), Zayn was assured that Louis didn’t feel the wings. He heard the sound of Louis’ feet ascending the steps on the Tomlinson porch as he set his V-Star in the garage.

After popping into his mom’s office to say goodnight he stepped into his room or his nightly ritual.

(Lock the door, jacket off…)

 

 

…

 

—*—

Tuesday morning, Louis rushed into the kitchen to grab an apple. He had woken up late and if he wanted to get to school on time he’d have to skip the usual toast and cereal. He was now grateful he didn’t have to take the detour to meet up with Niall that day (orthodontist appointment for braces “yeah buddie!”)

He slipped into Biology at the last minute and took his seat next to Danielle.

“Just in time, Tommo.”

“Thanks, Dani, punctuality is a quality I very much value."

 

 

…

When the bell rang Louis strode leisurely to the English, thankful for the proximity so he didn’t have to run to a different end of the school like Danielle.

Walking into Mr.Cardle’s room, the fact that his Irish pal wasn’t there became apparent. This would have been the time where he’d take a seat next to Cher, or even Josh but on his way up he glanced left and saw Zayn in his usual seat.

Feeling brave he turned away from a mildly confused Cher and slowly dropped his bag next to the seat left of the dark haired boy. As he sat down he noticed Zayn tense up and shift slightly to the right. It felt so much like déjà vu that Louis was worried he hadn’t made any progress at all. Turning his head back to the front of the class with a downcast expression, Louis noticed Zayn look over at him through his peripherals. The leather jacketed boy relaxed visibly, seemingly when he saw Louis, before moving back to the way he was sitting originally and facing straight ahead.

They didn’t talk but Louis still counted it as a small victory.

 

 

…

Coming back from school on Thursday, Louis decided to put off his math homework and pop into the living room for some TV. He sat down on his usual couch and smiled when he saw the rake still leaning on the wall between the television and the clock.

Thoughts of the last Saturday bounced in his mind. Riding Zayn’s Silverado had been one of the scariest experiences of his life (not like that, get your mind out of the gutter). Though he was able to distract himself from the chance of possible death by the feel of Zayn’s muscles through his t-shirt and the musky smell emitting from the boy (he tried not to think about how the dark haired boy shifted away from him). He had planned on bringing the rake to Paul’s Pins but thought better of it because a) there was a chance that Zayn wouldn’t even be there b) he didn’t really need an excuse to be there as it was a public place and c) if Zayn was there it would probably be creepy if Louis walked in there with the boy’s rake, like he knew that he was going to be there.

(Plus, the garden tool could prove useful for another time. Like now.)

“Hey, Dad? I’m going to go return that rake ok?”

“About time.”

He threw on a deep red hoodie and grabbed the rake before opening the door and stepping onto his porch. He took a deep breath as descending the steps and crossing left over to the Malik’s. He rang the doorbell, trying to calm his nerves.

The door opened and he was met with a slightly disappointed Tricia.

“Oh.”

“Sorry Ms-I mean Tricia. I’m guessing you were expecting someone else. I just came to,” he held up the tool, “give you back your rake.”

“Oh, sorry Louis.” She took the rake. “Thanks. It’s just that I’m waiting for a package but I really need to get somewhere.” She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed."If no one signs off on it then I’ll have to go pick it up later today and I just don’t have the time.”

“Oh, well can’t Zayn just do it?”

She sighed. “No. He isn’t here yet, he had to do something with his art teacher. Mrs. Matilda was it?”

“Uh...I don’t think we have a Mrs.Matilda. But I think there’s a Ms. Matelin in our school.”

“Matelin, that’s it.”

Louis looked around awkwardly, mildly disappointed by the failure of his plan.

“So, I’ll see you later then.”

The woman sighed again. “See you, Louis. Say hi to your mom for me.”

“Will do, Tricia.”

He was on the sidewalk (not wanting to walk through the woman’s grass, at least not right in front of her) when she called out to him.

“Wait! Louis!”

He turned around at the sound of his name and walked over as she beckoned him with her left hand.

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe stay here until Zayn comes back? Just in case the mailman comes back before then.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” she reasoned, “I trust you. In fact you can stay after and hang out with Zayn if you’d like.”

“Uhh...”

“Please? For your mom’s reading buddy? And as someone who kept my rake for about three weeks?”

“…”

“…”

“Alright.”

“Thank you!”

Tricia opened the door and rushed inside, Louis following awkwardly behind. He watched as the woman scrambled around gathering her bag, jacket, and keys before shutting the door with a “Thanks Louis, help yourself!”

Left by himself Louis put his hands in his pockets, swaying back and forth, not really knowing what to do with himself. After thirty seconds of aimless swaying he slowly walked into the living room, looking around. He sat carefully on the nearest armchair and tapped at his thighs. He surveyed the pictures placed sparsely around the house. Zayn was a cute kid.

Not wanting to feel like a stalker any longer he pulled out his phone and set to play Bejeweled. His head shot up when he heard the door open and the sound of footsteps too quiet to be Tricia’s heels.

He got up and walked towards the front door where he saw Zayn taking off his jacket (so it wasn’t attached). But as soon as he saw Louis the boy threw the garment back on his shoulders (and it’s back).

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” Louis was getting flustered. “Um your mom let me in.”

Zayn blinked at Louis then ran his fingers through his hair ( _could you please maybe not do that right now? Trying not to ogle you here._ ) “Sorry,” he shook his head, “sorry for snapping at you like that.”

“It’s fine, really.”

Zayn glanced upstairs like he needed something that was up there but then he dropped his bag next to a couch.

“So why exactly did my mom let you in here? No offense it’s just…”

“None taken, I get it. She said she was waiting for some package? But she had to leave and you weren’t here yet so she had me wait. I owed her,” he rolled his eyes “you know, for the rake.”

“Oh yeah. Was wondering when you’d bring that back,” Zayn said as he walked towards the TV, opening the cupboard underneath it.

“Ha, yeah.” Louis said watching Zayn pull out a DVD case. “What are you doing?”

Zayn didn’t answer until he had settled himself on the long couch and pulled a half eaten bag of marshmallows from his backpack. Starting the DVD he answered “Community.”

“What’s that?”

“TV show.” He turned his head to where Louis was standing behind him. “Do you guys not have that in England?”

“Well I’m sure it’s available, I’ve just never heard of it.” Louis muttered as Zayn turned up the volume to the point where Louis could hear the theme song from where he was standing.

(Give some rope, tie me to dream)

The show started and Louis found himself enthralled in the antics.

“So are you just going to stand there or?”

“What?” Louis replied, slightly dazed at being pulled out of the programming.

“You’ve been standing there for like half the episode.”

“Oh.” He brushed imaginary lint off of his hoodie awkwardly. "I’ll just leave then.”

“Might as well finish the episode.”

Louis blushed and tried to contain his grin as he sat down. That became impossible when Zayn handed him his bag of marshmallows.

(They watched the whole first season)

 

 

—*—

Zayn shut his house door with a smile. The UPS worker had showed up by the third episode (he signed) and his mom was back by the seventh, smiling in that ‘my baby’s making friends’ way that moms do.

When the first DVD finished and the boys finally looked outside it was dark.

“Oh, well crap,” Louis said. “I should probably head home before my mum blows her lid.”

Zayn nodded sarcastically. “Yes, that would probably be a good idea”

Louis turned to him as if surveying Zayn’s seriousness.

“Oh, bugger off!”

Zayn laughed “Those insults would probably sting a bit more if I understood what they meant.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Louis muttered as he opened the front door. “Bye then, you bumwad”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!” Zayn called out, doing his best Abed impression (which was admittedly pretty bad).

He just managed to spot Louis laughing and shaking his head as he shut the white door.

Zayn knew he was violating his ‘don’t get too close’ rule, as he would have to keep something huge from Louis. But fuck, it had been a while since he had a real friend. The kind that hung out at your house and you shared marshmallows with and had inside jokes with. True, he’d have to keep his wings clamped for more time than he usually would but he thought it’d be worth it. When he was around Louis he felt a little less like that crazy quiet kid who used to be cool and more like…just Zayn.

So yeah, he was going to let it happen.

He bounded up the stairs and into his room. Locking the door, he stripped off his jacket and then his shirt, throwing them towards the general direction of his dresser. He slid into his bathroom and shut the door. With nimble fingers he freed his body from the bandages wrapped around it. When his wings were unharnessed he stretched them out as usual. With a shaky breath he tried flapping them. His wings moved shakily, mirroring his current state of mind. He had never tried moving them before. A smile slipped onto his face as he looked at his reflection, flapping them again.

He opened his bathroom door and stepped back into his room, slipping off his jeans and throwing on a baggy t-shirt. Taking out his clear contacts and laying back in his bed, Zayn slipped into a peaceful sleep.

That night was the first of many more Community marathons and the beginning (or maybe it started a little earlier than that) of their friendship.

The boys would hang out after school, though they didn’t really talk during school hours. Louis had tried but Zayn had shut him down pretty quick. (“Hey-” “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “You don’t have to in school.” “I want to.” “Look, I’m not your charity case-” “I never said you were.” “Just, I’ll see you after school.” “…okay.”)

 

 

…

 

—*—

“WAR, HUH! What is it good for? Absolutely NOTHING!” Louis and Liam belted out as their friends looked on and laughed. Gathered in Liam’s living room the teens were enjoying themselves.

“Hey do you guys want to do something tomorrow too?” Eleanor asked. “It’s a Wednesday, I think we’re all free then.”

Louis’ eyes rolled up, trying to remember if he had anything to do that day.

“Uhh…what time?” he asked.

“Around like seven?” she posed it as a question to get the opinion of the group. Looking around and seeing Niall, Danielle and Liam nod she continued “Yeah seven. I don’t know maybe we could do something outdoors? It’s almost April so the weather’s going to be pretty good.”

“Yeah sure, I just have to pop over to Zayn’s first.”

Zayn’s mom would be going on a business trip for a couple of days and though he had only known him six months, (friends for five, not that he was counting) Louis knew that it got to Zayn a little. No matter how many times the half Pakistani boy said he didn’t care.

Louis was sure that Zayn would come home sulking after his Wednesday art session with Ms. M (“Can’t today Lou. I’ve got art with Ms.M remember?” “Oh yeah. Well how long is that? Maybe I could come after?” “It ends at 5:30 but I usually stay till 6:00 and you’ve got to be at that family dinner at 6:00 right?”) and Louis planned to surprise him. He wouldn’t be able to stay but he’d be able to drop off his present before Zayn got home. Tricia would be picking some stuff up from her house at 5:15 pm and she had said that Louis could come in when she was leaving and to remember to shut the door on his way out (“It locks automatically so make sure you’ve got all your stuff before you leave. It’s really nice that you’re doing this Louis. I’m sure it’d mean a lot to him.”).

He had gotten him a Troy and Abed in the morning mug. The website offered customs and he had originally planned to do a _Zayn and Louis in the morning_ or even _Lou and Zaynie in the morning_ because he knew the pet name would piss him off. But he decided custom mugs with their faces on it would be creepy (and Zayn would probably wonder how Louis got a hold of his yearbook picture from last year).

The air went stale and really? Were they still doing this?

“You guys have been hanging out a lot,” Niall said.

“Yeah, so?” Louis replied, already beginning to get upset. He really wished his friends wouldn’t always do this.

“I’m just saying…be careful okay?”

“I’m not a child, Niall.”

Niall sighed and turned his attention back to the TV as Liam, Dani and El seemed to be.

(They had only turned the thing on for background noise. None of them had looked at it since they came in.)

 

…

The next day Louis was wrapping up his biology lab report and repeatedly checking the time so he wouldn’t miss Zayn’s mum. At 5:10 pm he was sitting on the Malik’s porch holding the mug in his hand (“Take a gift bag Boobear” “No mum, that’ll be too serious. It’s just a little…thing”).

Punctual as always, Tricia’s car pulled up at 5:15 pm. She got out of the car and grabbed a box .

“Oh hey, Louis, thank goodness you were on time ‘cause I am really,” she shut the car door,” in a rush.”

“Do you need some help?” Louis said, coming down the steps and reaching for the box. She handed it to him and got her house keys out of her bag, opening the door.

“Just set it on the table,” Tricia said as she gathered things from her home office.

After looking around as if thinking of what she could have possibly forgot, Tricia turned to Louis

“Okay so you can drop it off upstairs in his room and remember to lock up when you leave.”

“I will, Tricia.”

“Okay bye Louis!” she called as she shut the door after her.

Embarrassingly excited about his idea, Louis ran up the stairs and into Zayn’s room, holding the mug in his hands.

Louis had never actually been in Zayn’s room (Patricia was hardly there when he was over so the need for privacy wasn’t really present), only seen the inside from a crack in the doorway on his way to the bathroom. The room was pretty bare save for the general necessities (bed, closet, dresser, desk, laptop). He gently placed the mug onto the bedside table, next to a case of clear contacts (bloody hell, so his eyes actually look like that? He was always way too scared to get close enough to have a good look when Zayn had his glasses on).

Leaning back up from the bed level and crossing his arms over his chest, Louis was feeling pretty proud of himself.

Until he realized he had forgotten a card (he should at least leave a message right?). Looking around, all Louis could find were some stray easels and oh my goodness were those washable markers? Zayn the ‘serious artist’ had Crayola washables? Louis was never going to let him live that down. He now had something to write with but he couldn’t find paper.

Looking around once more Louis noticed a door. He turned the knob, hoping to find some paper but instead finding a spacious bathroom. He was stumped for a moment but then a cheeky idea came to mind. Laughing to himself, he uncapped the marker and began writing across the wide mirror.

He had only gotten to “Cheer up, butterc” when the door opened and in stepped Zayn, head down, softly humming a tune and shirtless.

“What the FUCK?!” Louis own voice sounded throughout the room.

 

> _It’s snowing and Louis and Zayn are seated on Zayn’s front porch, illuminated by the streetlamps. The snowflakes are getting caught in Zayn’s eyelashes and it’s kind of really fucking distracting._
> 
> _They’re waiting for Zayn’s mum to pull up and take Zayn over to the airport so he can go visit his dad. The boys had planned to wait inside but when he saw the snow Louis insisted they wait on the porch._
> 
> _“It’ll be kind of cold, Lou.”_
> 
> _“But it’s snowing, come on don’t be such a nob!”_
> 
> _“Still don’t know what you’re saying,” Zayn laughs as he zips up his jacket (the leather jacket still remains but Zayn’s put another winter jacket on top)._
> 
> _Louis can’t quite feel his hands at the moment since they’ve been outside for about an hour, but he doesn’t feel like leaving just yet. Especially since he and Zayn are talking about something real, which rarely happens, with Zayn’s constant need to keep some distance. (Well, physically, they are actually sitting pretty close right now and Louis knows it’s for body heat but he’d rather not think about that right then.)_
> 
> _“Yeah so I think I’d be like an English teacher or something.”_
> 
> _“Not art?” Louis is looking at Zayn quizzically. He thinks maybe the cold has frozen Zayn to the spot because he isn’t moving much (or making eye contact, opting instead to look straight ahead.)_
> 
> _“No, I don’t think I could ever teach art. It’s just really personal for me you know? And then trying to teach that to people who may not really be interested? Having people see your art is already like giving them a, I can’t believe I’m about to quote Nicki Minaj but, a peep hole to your soul. Oh my God, I regret it already.” Zayn squeezes his eyes shut and Louis is trying to hold in his laughter, until Zayn’s done at least. “But yeah, it’d just be like trying to teach people how to pour themselves out, but by example. I don’t know how Ms. M and Mrs. Walker do it. Though Mrs. Walker doesn’t really do much of any actual teaching.”_
> 
> _When Louis is sure Zayn’s done he lets out a loud laugh. “Oh my god Zayn. Peep hole to your soul?” Louis shakes his head. “That’s some deep stuff bro.”_
> 
> _“Oh shut up!”_
> 
> _“Hey maybe you can teach English at the school I teach drama?”_
> 
> _Zayn shakes his head “I don’t see it happening.”_
> 
> _“What, us teaching in the same place?”_
> 
> _“The whole thing.”_
> 
> _And Louis’ brows furrow as he watches Zayn sink into himself. He tries to joke it off._
> 
> _“Don’t be so hard on yourself mate.” He puts on his bullshit motivational speaker voice. “Just believe Zaynie,” he slowly stretches his arm around the air, “Open your wings and fly.”_
> 
> _He pauses, waiting for Zayn’s low laughter and turns to face the boy when he hears none. Zayn’s finally looking at him but it’s with this expression; this expression that’s a mixture of confusion, genuine fear, and something else Louis can’t quite place. He’s never seen Zayn look like that._
> 
> _That’s when Zayn speaks. “But what if it’s your wings holding you back?”_
> 
> _And Louis doesn’t really know what to say to that so as Tricia’s car pulls up, he tries to joke again._
> 
> _“That has been more '2 deep 4 u’ quotes from Zayn Malik.”_
> 
> _It obviously doesn’t work because Zayn gets up, eyes closed in disappointment and shaking his head. “Just forget it,” he mumbles before going down the steps and grabbing his suitcase. The boy doesn’t look back once as he hauls his bag into the trunk and enters the car, shielding himself behind tinted windows._
> 
> _Seconds after the car’s started and is almost out of sight, Louis awakes from his shocked state and yells after the vehicle._
> 
> _“BYE!”_

Louis felt like he had been dazed for hours but it clearly hadn’t been because Zayn still hadn’t looked up. When he did though, his face drained of color.

“Get out,” Zayn rasped. Louis thought maybe he meant to yell but was having a hard time speaking.

“Wha-what, _Zayn_ , what the fuck is that?!”

“Get _OUT_!” Zayn seemed to have found his voice now and it was the loudest Louis had ever heard him.

Louis scrambled out of the bathroom, out of Zayn’s locked room and out of the house. Breathing hard and still not quite oriented, he made his way over to the park to meet his friends. Albeit a little late due to the confusion his mind was in. (“You okay Lou? You look a little sick.” “What? No I’m-I’m fine.”)

 

—*—

Zayn was at his Wednesday art class with Ms.Matelin and the clock was nearing 5:30 pm. Normally he’d stick around until 6:00pm at least but today he was feeling anxious to get home. Since the first night of trying to move his wings he had been working on it daily. He was improving his control over them and sometimes he could get a lot of power in those things.

His mom was going on a week-long business trip and usually the solitude would leave him feeling lonely (especially since he had papers due the next week and couldn’t go to Paul’s), but not today. He planned on using the extra time alone to get a little more wing time in. Most nights by the time he was really building up a lot of power, he’d hear his mom in the kitchen or something and stop for fear of drawing her attention to him (all that flapping could generate a lot of noise). But he had the house to himself and he was anxious to get there. As soon as 5:30 pm struck he grabbed his bag and left the room (he had put away all his stuff beforehand. There were weird looks when he was moving around the room like he was in his own world but it was worth it. Plus it’s not like he wasn’t used to them).

He sped a little on the back streets and was able to get to his house in ten minutes. He shut the door and ran up the carpeted steps. He locked the door as soon as he got in (maybe out of habit, maybe out of paranoia) and dropped his bag next to his bed, faintly noting a sharp clinking sound (later he found out it was a mug but he was a little too preoccupied to notice) He stripped off his jacket and shirt carelessly. He was so eager he stripped off the bandages in his room. He opened the door to his bathroom, eyes at his feet, humming some old tune he heard at Paul’s. He only had his head down for a second, and he probably would have stayed obliviously humming for a while if he hadn’t been alarmed by a voice.

“What the FUCK?!” Louis.

His head shot up to face a slightly dazed Louis. He didn’t quite know what to do but he did know that he didn’t want this to be happening, for Louis to be there. So he said the first words that came to his mind.

“Get out.” His voice hadn’t quite caught up with his brain and it came out as a weak rasp.

“Wha-what, _Zayn_ , what the fuck is that?!”

The words hit Zayn like a kick in the gut because this was exactly what he was afraid of; the reason he had established the ‘don’t get too close’ rule in the first place.

He found it easier to yell. “Get _OUT_!”

He knew this would happen. He knew that if he ever made a friend and they ever found out they’d…well do exactly what Louis did. This was why he’d resolved it’d be easier to just not. But of course with Louis being so Louis (so perfectly odd) he decided to make an exception. And of course it blew up in his face.

He tried to at least do what he came there for but when he looked up his image was fragmented by words in Louis scraggly handwriting. He sighed and grabbed a washcloth, turning on the tap to wet it. Trying not to let hot tears of frustration out of his hazel eyes he wiped at the words “Cheer up, butterc”.

(He went to bed staring at his ceiling with restless wings that craved freedom)

 

…

 

—*—

Louis woke up to the sound of his iPhone beeping. He hit dismiss and sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. Hazy memories of the previous night flooded through his mind. It was all too surreal, like a dream. A dream. It was a dream. It had to have been because people don’t have wings. With an air of relief, he got ready for school. After munching on some toast he threw on his hoodie and put his hands in his pockets. His fingertips collided with a crumpled paper and he pulled it out, curious. He opened it and found it was a receipt for one Community novelty mug. His heart beat sped up. That was the mug that he brought to Zayn’s house and saw Zayn’s…no. That didn’t happen. He probably just had some warped dream about the previous night.

“Louis!”

He turned around to find his mother standing at the top of the stairs, holding his school bag in one hand. He smiled as he ran up the stairs to grab it.

“Glad to see you smiling, Boobear.”

“Uh..thanks?” Louis was slightly confused as to why his mom would choose to say that.

“You seemed shaken when you came home last night.”

The memories came back clearer then; sharper and more realistic.

Could it really have happened?

“No, uh, I’m fine now” he said as he turned around and left the house. He strolled over to the intersection to meet Niall.

“Hey, Rainbow,” Niall said, looking concerned as he saw Louis approaching.

“Hey, Lucky.”

“Feeling better? After you came over from Zayn’s you seemed really…off.”

It happened.

“Um y-yeah. Much.” He plastered on a smile to stop Niall from worrying. The other boy looked skeptic but let it go, which Louis was grateful for. They walked in relative silence, it happened sometimes, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Niall seemed relatively content while Louis head spun.

It happened.

It happened.

His friend (one of his best friends if you asked Louis) had wings.

Zayn had body parts that were supposed to be on birds on his back.

No. Not even birds, from the blur of the last night’s events Louis still remembered how they had looked like something out of a story book. Like something on a mythical creature.

How was he supposed to deal with that?

He couldn’t.

Louis spent the morning avoiding Zayn and it seemed Zayn was trying to do the same as he didn’t see the boy once that morning. When the bell rang, signifying the end of second period and the start of their lunch hour, Louis made his way over to Niall’s locker (the long way since he had to avoid the art hallway, literature hallway and the hallway with Zayn’s locker)

“Hey.” Niall smiled at him. “Did you guys get held in at your math class? You took a while.”

Louis only smiled and nodded, not saying anything to disprove Niall’s assumption.

As they started down the French hallway, Louis saw none other than Zayn rounding the corner at the end of the hall. Once they made eye contact, Zayn abruptly turned around and disappeared behind the wall. Louis let out a short sigh of frustration and tried to continue walking as if nothing happened.

Just then he heard the sound of Megaphones voice (the nickname given to the boy that was physically unable to whisper and had a voice that constantly sounded amplified).

“Hey what’s up with the sass master? He’s looking down.”

“Oh my God, Megaphone, quiet down!”

Louis heaved another sigh as he handed a laughing Niall $5.

 

…

Louis spent the majority of the lunch period sulking and picking at his food.

“You okay, Lou?” Liam asked.

“Huh?” Louis looked up from his plate. “Yeah, I’m fine thanks.”

“No you’re not.” Liam replied.

Before Louis could assure him that yes he totally was, Niall piped up.

“Is this about the sass master bet? ‘Cause I’ll give the money back,” he said as he reached for his pocket.

“No, Niall, it’s not that,” Louis sighed. What was he going to tell them? 'It’s just that the guy I may or may not have had a crush on has wings'? Yeah, no. (and even though they weren’t exactly friends anymore, he knew this was something Zayn wanted to keep secret. Louis wouldn’t do that to him) The thing though, was that his friends were genuinely good people. And even though he doubted that they’d believe him, as he saw them himself and still had a hard time believing it, he knew his friends would probably research the best possible mental asylum for him to check into. That’s just the kind of people they were.

“Just had a rough night. Little tired.”

 

…

Louis made it to Tuesday relatively unscathed. Focusing on his other friends, he was able to successfully avoid Zayn and things were starting to feel normal (well, somewhat. It was weird that he hadn't hung out with Zayn for five days, but every time he thought about that night he just couldn’t handle it. Besides, it’s not exactly like Zayn was chasing after him. The boy had become as elusive as…something elusive)

He was on autopilot when he walked into his English room. Niall wasn’t there, and his feet were already making their way to the back of the class. It wasn’t until he looked up that he realized where he was standing. The seat to the left of Zayn’s. The boy in question had seized up, shoulders high, head down and clawing at the inside of his jacket (a nervous habit Louis had noticed after months of observance). Louis awkwardly cleared his throat and turned around. In his peripherals he saw Zayn breathe out and let his shoulders drop (but it looked like it was more out of disappointment than relief).

Louis would say that was the moment when he knew he had to make things right. Because as much as he knew that he was terrified of Zayn’s wings (wings. Zayn had wings.), he also knew that he never wanted to see Zayn look like he just did again.

The next day he tried looking for Zayn but the dark haired boy had been really thorough in his avoidance. By the end of the day he felt like giving up. If Zayn didn’t want to see him that badly then what was supposed to do? As he walked past the art display board, one last idea surfaced in his mind.

 

…

 

—*—

Zayn kept his head down as he rushed to the back of the room and set up his station. The past five days alone had been exhausting (at least his mom would be back on Sunday). He had been avoiding Louis since Wednesday night (5 days, 120 hours, 7200 minutes). He knew that their friendship was over; Zayn was a freak. But he’d rather not actually hear the words fall from Louis’ lips.

Thirty minutes before the class officially ended (and one hour before he usually left), the door swung open. Zayn still continued painting. Usually when this happened it was some parent who really needed to get their child somewhere.

“Okay, I can’t wait outside anymore.”

Zayn almost continued with his piece because,well, that’s what the parents usually say. But the voice was different. It was slightly high pitched and a little raspy, like they had almost fully recovered from a sore throat. It was Louis.

Zayn’s head shot up. What the fuck was happening? After a quick word with Ms.M who only nodded her head and smiled, Louis directed his attention back to the class. Louis seemed to be looking around the room and Zayn tried to command his head to go back down but it stayed still, eyes fastened to Louis face (he’s got weird cheekbones. But they’re kind of nice). Eventually their eyes met and Louis advanced toward him, still not breaking eye contact (well they would if Zayn could just _put his fucking head down_ )

Louis stood in front of Zayn’s table for a moment before he spoke.

“Ca-can I talk to you?”

Zayn said nothing. The fact that he really did _not_ want to talk gave him the strength to put his head down.

“Hey! I said can I talk to you!”

Zayn was not expecting the outburst, and he didn’t appreciate the stares he was now receiving. Louis knew he hated stuff like this, he knew.

“Not here,” Zayn said through clenched teeth.

“Then where?” Louis voice had returned to normal, but people were still glancing at him.

“When I get home.”

“And when will that be?”

“When I get home. Now get out,” he whispered, turning away from Louis so the British boy wouldn’t see on his face just how hard this was for him.

Louis seemed to nod to himself before walking to the front of the classroom, thanking Ms.M and shuffling out.

 

…

“Zayn?”

“Yeah Ms.M?” Zayn answered as he wiped down his station.

“You’ve been wiping that spot for ten minutes.

“What?” He looked down at his hand. “Oh,” he moved his hand to another spot and started wiping.

Ms.M smiled at the obviously stalling boy. “Zayn?”

The boy sighed before answering, “Yeah Ms.M?”

“It’s after seven and it’s getting pretty dark. I’ve got to leave. Go home.”

“Oh…ok.”

Zayn cleared out his workstation and gathered his stuff. He rode slowly to his home, dreading the pending confrontation.

Trying to even out his breathing he rounded the corner to their cul de sac and parked his Silverado in his garage. When he looked to the porch he found Louis looking at him.

“You’re late.”

Zayn didn’t reply, only trotted up the steps, careful to avoid touching Louis and opened the door. He threw his bag down and as soon as he heard the sound of Louis shutting the door he spoke.

“What?” Zayn spat.

Louis looked taken aback by how harsh Zayn had come across. But Zayn really didn’t know how to handle what was happening. He felt helpless and it was frustrating.

“I wanted to talk to you…about the-about what happened.”

Zayn waited for Louis to continue with the 'let’s not hang out anymore' speech and raised a dark eyebrow when he didn’t.

“Okay?” Zayn prompted him, wanting to just get it over with so he could wallow a bit.

“Okay um…you have wings,” Louis gestured toward Zayn as if he was introducing new knowledge. “And that’s not something that I’m uh, well I didn’t even know it was possible. So I’m sorry about how I, you know, reacted.”

Zayn nodded. He got it, Louis just wanted to clear his conscience. It was nice, good natured of him really.

“It’s ok,” Zayn said, waiting for Louis to excuse himself and was stunned when the boy continued.

“But you were-no you’re like one of my best friends okay? And it’s not like they change who you are right?”

Zayn nodded, wanting to smile at Louis referring to him as his best friend but not quite allowing himself the action.

“So I think if I just get used to it,” Louis had been looking at everything but Zayn throughout his monologue but now the boy seemed to gain the confidence to look at him. The sincerity in the cerulean eyes almost made Zayn want to turn away. “Then maybe we can like, go back to the way it was.”

Zayn still hadn’t spoken and Louis rushed to say more.

“I won’t tell anyone. Even if you don’t want to...stay friends”

“I want to,” Zayn blurted. Part of him couldn’t believe that it was really happening, that he had really met someone so great. Someone who found out that he had fucking _wings_ and still wanted to be a part of his life.

Louis face lit up with a slightly disbelieving smile. “Yeah?”

Zayn allowed himself to smile. “Yeah.”

The boys stayed smiling at each other for a couple of moments before Zayn got those uncomfortable tingles in his stomach and he looked to the TV.

“So. You want to finally watch 21 Jump Street?’

“Yeah.”

 

…

An hour into the movie, when Zayn snuck another glance at Louis (just making sure it wasn’t some sort of coping mechanism where he hallucinated the boy), the Doncaster boy seemed to be in his own world staring at the wall. Louis stayed like that for a couple of minutes and Zayn was wondering whether he should ask how the boy felt when Louis suddenly turned to him.

“Can I see them?”

Zayn didn’t have to ask to know what Louis was talking about.

“Are you…are you sure?”

Louis nodded and offered a weak smile.

“Okay,” Zayn sighed, pausing the movie and heading upstairs. The sound of Louis footsteps behind him made the blood pumping in his ears more apparent.

He led Louis into his room and locked the door. When Louis gave him a funny look he explained.

“Precaution.”

“Oh, okay” Louis nodded. “So do we have to...” He pointed his thumb in the direction of the bathroom

“I would. But there won’t be enough space.”

“Not enough space? How big…” Louis murmuring trailed off.

Looking around awkwardly Zayn began taking off his jacket. “I’ll just…show you then.”

Zayn felt Louis wide eyes on him and he tried his best not to get psyched out. It was just his usual routine…except someone (someone very important) was watching. He took off his jacket and placed it on his bed. Sparing a glance at Louis, who gave him a small reassuring smile (though the boy looked scared as well), he took off his white t-shirt; revealing his bandages. When he saw Louis bewildered face he spoke.

“To keep them down.”

Louis nodded again, but this one seemed hesitant and shaky.

With trembling fingers Zayn unraveled the strips, revealing his torso, and his wings.

Zayn was afraid of what Louis would say as the boy was currently letting out a huge breath with widened eyes.

“Th-that’s not-we could have fit in the bathroom.”

Zayn sighed, reluctant to reveal that no, they really couldn’t. He unfurled his wings, letting them stretch out behind him.

“Oh…” Louis seemed to have had the wind knocked out of him and it was making Zayn feel more insecure by the second.

He reached down at his bed for his bandages. “I can put them away-"

“No.”

Zayn looked up at Louis, hazel meeting cerulean.

“I mean, the point of this is to get used to them right?”

Zayn gulped. “Right.”

Zayn straightened back up as he watched Louis survey the appendages.

Louis stared for a few minutes, circling around Zayn as if he was some piece at an art gallery. (or something from the circus)

 

—*—

Wings. Zayn had wings. And they just might have been the most beautiful things Louis had ever seen. They stretched out horizontally from around Zayn’s shoulder blades, they looked powerful. The layered gray feathers shone silver in the light of Zayn’s room. They looked soft as silk, he bet they felt that soft.

 

.—*—

“Ca-can I touch them?” Louis spoke softly

Zayn couldn’t speak, only giving a tight nod.

 

—*—

They did.

 

…

 

—*—

The sensation of Louis fingers brushing in the middle of his left wing caused them to twitch suddenly. He heard Louis inhale a short breath from behind him and jump back in surprise (a circus freak). Zayn stepped forward, away from Louis, anger and frustration (mostly at himself for being such a fucking screw-up) flooding through his veins.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.”

Louis looked at him with concerned eyes, trying to figure out what was going through Zayn’s head ( _I am odd, I am weird, I am not right_ ). The Doncaster boy looked down after moments of searching Zayn’s face for clues.

“They’re special.” Louis soft whisper filled the silence.

Not even up to a second after Louis spoke the words Zayn looked up from the ground with unshed tears of frustration in his eyes and yelled.

“No, they're not fucking _special_ , Louis! They make me a freak!” Zayn stepped closer to Louis in his rage. “I have wings on my back, Louis. _Wings_! Do you not get that?” His voice broke and the tears threatened to fall. “People aren’t supposed to be like this.” By the end of the sentence Zayn was looking down again, whispering, almost to himself.

Louis' hands shook as he took the few steps required to stand right in front of him and put his hands on Zayn’s shoulders. Zayn still wouldn’t look up. He couldn’t. He was some kind of mutant, and now Louis (Louis, the only one who made him feel normal) knew.

“You’re not a freak. You’re different. And that, at least to me, isn’t bad. It’s different like special, different like beautiful.”

Zayn looked up from his shoes and into Louis eyes. His breathing was still shallow but he felt calmer, more serene.

“You have some motherfucking badass wings.”

Zayn exhaled a short shaky laugh. Louis could still make him laugh, even at a moment like this.

“And yes, most people don’t. But that does not make you any less of a person than anyone else.” Louis leaned back, giving Zayn space. “Plus, you can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m like herpes, bitch.”

Zayn laughed.

“See you tomorrow?”

Still shuddering, Zayn nodded.

When Louis was almost out the door Zayn spoke.

“Hey, Louis?”

Louis stuck his head back in the room. “Yeah?”

“Thanks…and you’re pretty special too.”

The tan boy only smiled before heading down the stairs and out of the house.

 

…

When he went to sleep that night, Zayn tried not to think about the fact that Louis called him beautiful. (But it was really hard because Louis, the boy that looked like a poster child for beauty, called him beautiful…hell yeah fucking right he did.)

 

…

—*—

There were a lot of questions at first.

“Do your parents have them too?”

“No.”

“So your mom must have been pretty surprised when they handed her a baby with wings.”

“I didn’t have them when I was born.”

“Okay, so when did you get them, grow them?”

“Sophomore year.”

Zayn explained as best as he could and Louis tried his very best to understand.

By May, Louis felt like he and Zayn were even closer than before. The secret of Zayn’s wings seemed to be that wedge he always felt between them. Now that Louis knew, Zayn was a lot more open with him. But that brought about issues of its own. For one, since Louis knew about the wings, Zayn felt more comfortable having them out. Which was great, it was, Louis wanted Zayn to feel comfortable being himself around him. But to have his wings out, Zayn had to stay in his room, with the door locked. The circumstances often left Louis locked in a room with a shirtless Zayn. Being a homosexual male, it could be hard to deal with and the fact that Zayn was bi and probably wouldn’t be physically disgusted if Louis just reached out and kissed him (his lips were too fucking pink. It wasn’t natural.) didn’t help at all.

Other than the obvious physical attraction (which, hopefully, the other boy was oblivious to), Zayn seemed to reel Louis in with his fluctuating persona. Yeah, the kid was moody but when it was a good one he made Louis feel as if everything was okay and even when it was a sour one it was still kind of endearing (and the dark boy looked devastatingly beautiful doing it).

 

…

“Hey, can we go somewhere today?” Louis voice filled Zayn’s bedroom.

Zayn was at his computer desk, working on his Sociology assignment. “Like where?” he answered without looking away from the screen, nimble fingers tapping on the keys.

“It doesn’t have to be far. We can just go to the town centre.”

“I don’t know if I really want to go there…”

Louis knew why Zayn was wary and reassured him.

“Don’t worry, most kids don’t even like going to the town centre.”

“I don’t know Lou…”

“Come on, please?”

Louis watched as Zayn paused then sighed.

“Okay. But after I get this paper to,” he looked at the word count, “2000 words.”

Louis groaned, he wanted to do something now. He was sick of working on his Biology report.

“Where are you now?”

“1462.”

“Deal.”

Half an hour later Louis was zipping up his hoodie when Zayn groaned.

“What?” Louis asked

“I forgot my contacts.” Zayn gestured toward his thick rimmed glasses.

He’d never admit it, but one of the things Louis liked about doing homework with Zayn at his house was seeing him in his glasses.

“Forget it.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really. It’s just the town centre.”

“Right.” Zayn decided as he threw on his jacket.

“Seriously, do you have to wear that thing everywhere?”

“It hides them remember?”

Louis shook his head. “Well we’ll get you something else that hides them.”

Zayn pouted. “What’s wrong with my jacket?”

“Nothing. Just thought you’d like some variety.”

Closing the door Zayn answered. “Well that would be nice. Tired of wearing this thing when it’s got stains on it.”

“I’m tired of it too.” Louis put a condescending hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Shut up.” Zayn shoved Louis off of him. “But I don’t really feel like buying anything today. Just want to walk around.”

“Well we’re going to have a fun twenty five minute walk to the centre.” Louis put on a sarcastic smile.

Zayn let out a dramatic groan. “Seriously Lou?”

“Yup.”

Zayn paused, as if struck with an idea.

“Or we can take a ten minute ride,” he said, opening the garage.

Louis felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to ride with Zayn, not after the last time. Zayn seemed to notice his discomfort because he turned to him with a teasing but caring smile.

“What, you’re not still scared are you?”

Louis looked away and said nothing. It wasn’t that.

“I’ve got an extra helmet in here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Louis still didn’t answer him, only watching as Zayn pulled his bike and two helmets out of his garage.

“Here.” He stretched a helmet towards Louis. “If you really get scared you can hold onto me,” he joked.

Right. Now he was cool with it.

“Sure you won’t be uncomfortable again?” Louis breathed taking hold of the helmet. It wasn’t meant to be heard but Louis guessed Zayn did because of the look on his face.

“That was different,” Zayn tried to reason.

“How is it different? Am I less disgusting or whatever now?”

Zayn shook his head. “That’s not it, Louis.”

“Then what is it?”

“Last time you were on my bike you didn’t know. You were basically right on my back, I was scared you would feel them. I wasn’t scared of you.”

“Oh…” Louis looked down bashfully. Of course that was what it was, he should know more than anyone that Zayn wasn’t like that. It was just that whenever he would allow himself to fantasize about being with Zayn, like _being_ with him, that memory of Zayn shifting out of his embrace was kind of like a big ‘there’s no way that’s going to happen’ and it hurt.

“Hey.” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the low sound of Zayn’s voice. “There’s no time for that.” He wagged his index finger from side to side as if explaining Louis whole demeanor. “We’ve got a town centre to loiter in.”

Louis let out a laugh as he got on the back of Zayn’s bike.

“Let’s tear that shit up.”

 

…

They had been walking around the centre for forty minutes and it was safe to say Louis was bored, and Zayn seemed to be feeling the same.

“Why did you bring me here again?” Zayn asked, hands in his pockets.

“Well, mostly because I didn’t want to work on my Biology homework.” He looked to Zayn. “But that’s beginning to look better than being here”

“I get why I never used to come here, this place sucks.”

“That it does,” Louis sighed. He scanned the wing they were in, looking for something inexpensive that would be entertaining. He grinned, an idea forming in his head as he spotted the awkwardly placed photo booth.

In his excitement he grabbed Zayn’s hand to pull him towards the machine. The tiny shocks he felt in his own hand made him move it farther up to grab Zayn’s wrist as he ran toward the booth.

“What are you-ohohoho,” Zayn laughed, “no. Not happening.”

Louis managed to get him the rest of the way to the machine and turned to Zayn.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun.”

“No man.” Zayn shook his head, stepping back.

Louis was stumped but quickly recovered. “You owe me!” he shouted to Zayn’s back.

Zayn turned around “How do I owe you?”

“My birthday, you didn’t get me anything.”

Zayn’s dark eyebrows flew higher. “Your birthday was in November. We weren’t even friends then.”

Louis shook his head. He didn’t care. “Doesn’t matter, I’m redeeming it now.”

Zayn's brows dropped.

His plan seemed to be working. “Uh huh,” he nodded, “in the form of sequenced photos.”

Zayn rolled his eyes before huffing. “Fine.”

“Thank you, was that so hard?”

“Don’t push it.” Zayn failed to sound angry, a small smile slipping through, as he walked up to where Louis was.

Louis scanned the side of the machine, reading the instructions “It’s two dollars for a set of five, four for two copies.”

“How much have you got?”

Louis reached into his hoodie pockets “Uh, I’ve got three bucks.”

Zayn then reached into his own pocket and pulled out a rumpled dollar “Here, add this,” he said without looking at Louis.

“So you do want to,” Louis teased.

”Just get in Louis,” Zayn sighed as he pulled the curtain back.

Louis smiled to himself as Zayn leaned forward, his glasses slipping down his nose, as he tried to read the instructions. Louis tried to make it look like he hadn’t just been staring as the boy turned to him.

“Okay it says when the red light changes to green it’s going to start. It’ll wait three seconds before it takes a new picture.”

“Alright.”

The two boys sat back as the camera took the first picture. Zayn was just staring straight ahead, it was boring. Hoping to hype things up (he paid two bucks for this shit) Louis jumped up and spread his hands out wide, only to smash his head on the top of the booth. It seemed bigger when he was sitting down. As he sat down, rubbing his head, he heard Zayn’s slightly erratic laughing. He frowned, turning to his friend who seemed to be enjoying himself. Zayn opened his eyes long enough to see that Louis was upset. Still smiling he pulled the side of Louis head down to press a laugh into Louis hair. When Zayn released his head, Louis faced straight forward, a blush burning his cheeks.

“Thank you. Your pictures are ready.” A robotic voice sounded throughout the small space.

Zayn drew the curtains back and stepped out, Louis stepped out slowly after. The dark haired boy stood back as Louis grabbed the two strips of photos and shoved them in his pocket.

Zayn wasn’t looking at him. Louis couldn’t quite understand the expression on the dark haired boy’s face, but was relieved to see that it didn’t look like remorse. But still, it was awkward. And usually Louis & Zayn weren’t awkward (yes he referred to themselves as a unit when they hung out, sue him).

Hoping to break the stiff atmosphere Louis sped up his pace. “Race you to the parking lot!” he yelled as he sped off, just hearing a “shit” before the sound of Zayn’s high tops hitting the tile.

 

…

Louis climbed off of Zayn’s bike.

“See you later mate,” he said before he started turning to head to his house.

“Wait.” He heard Zayn’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Forgetting something?” Zayn smirked at him.

At first Louis really didn’t know what the boy was on about but then he spotted the helmet between Zayn’s hip and forearm.

“Oh.” He raised his hands to his head to slip off the helmet. He was stepping toward Zayn with the helmet in his hand when he remembered he had something else that belonged to Zayn. He shoved his hand in his pocket before pulling out one of the strips and dropping it in the vessel. “Here.”

He watched as Zayn looked into the helmet, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thanks.”

Louis nodded as he stepped onto his own porch.

“Bye, Doncaster.” he heard from behind him

“Later, Chicago.” he laughed at Zayn’s nickname gesture as he unlocked his door and stepped in.

 

…

 

Louis didn’t actually look at the pictures until around three in the morning. He woke up in the middle of the night (or the morning whatever) and after staring into space for five minutes he noticed his hoodie hanging off of his computer chair. He got up and turned on the light in his room before slowly pulling the glossy strip out of his pocket.

The first was a picture of Louis smiling victoriously (because he actually got Zayn to do it) and Zayn staring straight ahead with a bored expression. The next caught Zayn looking up and Louis torso. The third had Louis rubbing his head with a frown and Zayn laughing. Laughing; with eyes closed, teeth bared and his tongue peeking out…Louis kind of loved it. In the next picture Zayn’s eyes were closed, lips hidden in Louis' brown hair, and Louis' eyes were almost comically wide (if it wasn’t so embarrassing), irises looking upwards towards Zayn. And the last, the one where Louis cheeks were actually really fucking red and he was facing straight forward, showed Zayn peeking at him from the right side of his eye, an observant look on his face (the one Louis had only seen him make when surveying art).

Louis slept happy that night.

 

…

—*—

Having Louis find out about the wings ended up turning out well. Zayn had been scared it would end their friendship, and when it didn’t, that it would change their dynamic. And technically it did, because they were a lot closer.

After the initial onslaught of questions Louis ended up being pretty helpful. One afternoon he and Louis had taken the train downtown and went shopping for 'supplies' as Louis called it. The Doncaster boy helped him pick out jackets and jumpers (complete with tied strings) that hid his wings and an Ace Bandage. (“Aren’t these for like…pressing down boobs? Like for transgenders?” “Listen do you want to keep spending half your money on bandages?” “…Okay fine.”) Louis had been more understanding than Zayn could have ever imagined and it was great, but at the same time it wasn’t because it just made Louis seem even better and made it harder for Zayn to push 'more than friends' thoughts out of his head.

“Zayn! Vashappenin!” Harry’s slow voice filled the bowling alley.

Zayn rolled his eyes as he walked up to the front desk. “Hi Harry.”

 

—*—

Harry was happy to see his friend, it had been a while but he was a little more curious as to why Louis was walking in behind him.

“Hi, Louis!”

The boy in question smiled and waved at him before sitting down in front of isle seven.

“He knows he has to get shoes right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah but I lost the rock paper scissors match so I have to get both our shoes,” Zayn replied.

Huh. Interesting.

After getting both of their shoes out, Harry turned back to the front desk, meeting two helmets.

Oh, this was too good.

“You bought him a helmet?” he teased.

“What?” Zayn looked up from tying his laces. “No, that’s my extra.”

“It says ‘Swagmasta from Doncasta’ on it in Sharpie. I don’t know where this ‘Doncasta’ place is but I’m pretty sure you’re not from there.”

“It’s actually Doncaster and no, that’s all Lou. I didn’t even know he did that.” Zayn looked annoyed but not nearly as annoyed as Harry would have thought. Zayn picked up the helmet and held it in the air, towards Louis. “Doncaster!” Louis turned around as Zayn raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

Louis only grinned widely before turning back to his phone. Harry watched in slight awe as Zayn shook his head, laughing to himself, and placed the helmet back on the wooden table.

Zayn turned to go towards the isles but Harry stopped him.

“Yes?” Zayn asked.

“You can’t just leave like that. You’ve hardly been around lately,” Harry reasoned.

Zayn rolled his eyes but sat down. “Hey Lou!” Louis turned around again. “Give me a minute?”

With a thumbs up of approval from Louis, Zayn turned back to Harry. “What did you want to bother me about?”

“I’m offended.”

“And I’m right.”

“So,” Harry sings, “What’s up with you and Britboy?”

Zayn’s dark eyebrows nearly touched. “There’s nothing up.”

“I think something might be up.”

Zayn shrugged. “We’re friends.” The boy frowned slightly, just for a second. If one blinked they would have missed it. But Harry didn’t blink.

“But you don’t want to be.”

“Why wouldn’t I want Louis to be my friend? Aren’t you the one who was pushing me to make friends?”

Defensive.

Harry rolled his eyes “I meant, you don’t want him to be just a friend.” He wagged his eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

Zayn cast his eyes down and Harry wondered if he had maybe pushed too far, but the dark haired boy brought his head back up again with an expression that looked tired and something else Harry couldn’t quite understand.

“Could you be serious with me for a minute?”

Oh. “Yeah, sure. Just hold on a second.”

Harry disappeared to the room beyond Zayn’s sight. It wasn’t often Zayn actually confided in Harry and he wanted to be as helpful as possible, and for that to happen, Louis couldn’t interrupt. Especially since it seemed like the conversation was going to be about him.

“Hey, Perrie?”

“What?” The blond girl looked annoyed to see him.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“No.”

Harry sighed. “Fine, can you do Zayn a favor?”

Perrie turned to him, trying to gage his sincerity. “What is it?”

“Can you keep Louis busy for a couple of minutes?”

She stalled for a moment before huffing a “Fine.”

Harry returned to the front desk to see that Zayn had perched himself on the table, with his legs angling off, facing the wall of shoes and showing his back to the isles. Harry propped himself next to the dark haired boy.

“I am serious and at your service.”

Zayn fixed him a pointed look.

Harry almost said sorry but he knew the continuation of ‘s’ words would only aggravate Zayn more so he offered Zayn an apologetic look instead.

“Louis is a really good friend,” Zayn said, glancing at Harry between words. “And, I don't know, I feel kind of greedy wanting more.”

So he did want more. Harry stayed quiet, wanting to allow his friend to get the weight off his chest and know that he could come to Harry for things like this.

“He already had to deal with a lot of shit just to be my friend and I don’t want to push it. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Harry was concerned as to what ‘shit’ Louis had to deal with but decided to focus on the rest.

“What wouldn’t be fair, is not even giving him a choice. If he’s really as good a friend as you say he is, he’ll still want to be there for you no matter what. And it isn’t greedy to want something. You’ve got friends, Zaynie.” He smiled at his friend. “And it isn’t wrong to want something other than that. You deserve to be happy, as much as you tell yourself you don’t, you do.”

Harry was delighted to see his friend smile. Even as miniscule as the smile was, it let Harry know he had done something right.

“Thanks, Harry”

“Anytime.”

Zayn glanced behind him at Louis and Perrie and as if on cue Louis turned to meet his eyes and smiled. Harry was glad to have been a part of making this, whatever this had grown into, happen.

“Hey, Lou!” Zayn yelled. “Ready to be slaughtered?”

Both Louis and Harry laughed, though Harry’s was more surprised. He had never seen his friend this happy.

Zayn threw himself over the front of the desk and landed on his feet. “Hey don’t mention this to L-“

“I wouldn’t.”

Zayn smiled again. “Thanks. Oh and even if…that thing we talked about doesn’t work out, I wanted you to know you’re my best platonic friend.”

“I am both honored and offended.”

Zayn laughed before running off to Louis, neon shoes in hand.

 

…

—*—

Louis sighed as he sat down on Eleanor’s couch.

“God bless whoever invented Hawaiian pizza,” he breathed melodramatically.

Niall laughed. “Amen to that!”

The group of friends relaxed into easy banter as they ate pizza, enjoying each other’s company. They were an hour and a half into ignoring the Monday evening television (they might as well save some energy and just not turn the thing on) when Niall turned to Louis.

“Oh yeah, how’d your bowling date go?”

Louis rolled his eyes. The last Saturday he went to Paul’s Pins with Zayn he had been Skyping with Niall. When the clock neared 6:00 pm he had told Niall he had to leave.

“Wait, where are you going, Rainbow?”

“Bowling with a friend.”

Niall raised his eyebrows.

“Is it a special friend?”

“What? No,” he spluttered, but the damage was done.

“Oh my gosh, my little Rainbow’s got a date this is amazing!”

“Stop, Niall.”

“Who is it? Oh my goodness Cinderelou has finally met his prince charm-"

Rolling his eyes he had closed his laptop, ending the chat.

“You went on a date?” Eleanor’s voice brought him back to the present.

“It wasn’t a date.” He gave Niall a pointed look. “And it was good, me and Zayn had fun,” he smiled.

His smile faded however when he saw everybody else’s grins falter and heard Liam’s concerned (though he had no right to be) voice.

“You’re dating him now?”

“It wasn’t a-“

“Jesus, Lou, you need to be careful.”

Louis squinted at his friend. He was getting really tired of being passive aggressive when his friends pulled this shit.

“And why exactly do I need to be,”he put the last word in air quotations, “careful”

“Because he’s dangerous.”

If it was possible Louis squinted even more. “And how exactly is he dangerous?”

“I can tell he’s dangerous by the kind of things I hear about him.” Liam was standing now, still trying to reason with Louis. But Louis was having none of it.

“What kind of things? Huh? Enlighten me.” Louis stood up as well, facing Liam who was a few steps away.

Taken aback by Louis tone, the harshness in Liam’s rose.

“Well for one he does drugs with some college kid behind Paul’s Pins, which I bet he took you to.” Liam points a hand towards Louis. “And he shoplifts from the Syco next to it! We’re telling you this for your own good Louis, he’s bad news!”

Louis gaped, head tilted to the side, disbelieving of his friend’s (even though Liam fucked up big time, Louis still counted him a friend) words.

“What the hell-are you serious, mate?” His Doncaster accent became more prominent as his indignant rage heightened.

Liam only crossed his arms defiantly.

“Okay well let me tell you something since you seem to have only done half of your research. 'That college kid' from Paul’s Pins I assume is Harry. Harry is one weird bloke, but he wouldn’t do drugs, or offer it to minors. He is Zayn’s _friend_ , not his dealer.”

Liam looked down, silent.

"And Zayn does not steal from that Syco, in fact the lady who manages it is a family friend of his.”

“Then why did I hear that she was yelling “come back here” when he left the store!” Liam was able to look up then.

“Whoever you heard it from obviously didn’t get their facts straight. Whenever Zayn leaves that place the manager, Lydia, wants to keep talking to him. He’s basically her nephew and she likes talking to him. Zayn’s a good person to talk to.”

Louis shook his head, exhausted and unable to speak louder than just above a whisper. “I don’t understand how you lot could automatically peg him as some criminal. He’s a person.” He looked to Danielle for some kind of support on this but she only looked down. She, along with the others, had been silent throughout the argument and he really expected more from her.

“You know what? I’m done.” He grabbed blindly for his things. “Before I say something I regret,” he mumbled absently before leaving Eleanor’s flat without looking back.

 

…

Around 9:00 pm that night Louis heard the doorbell ring. He was puzzled as to who it could be and even more puzzled (as well as slightly annoyed) when he found Danielle on his doorstep.

“How is he?” Danielle’s broken voice echoed in his stairway.

He didn’t have to ask who. Drying her eyes with his hoodie sleeve he led her inside. Over Yorkshire tea, Louis caught Danielle up on how Zayn was. He left out some obvious details, and though he didn’t say it outright, he let her know that she should have at least kept his acquaintance. He knew more than anyone (except for the boy himself) how much Zayn would have appreciated it. How special she still was to him (even though it ate him up sometimes), after all this time, Zayn still liked to remember her as the Danielle he knew before his whole…ordeal. He knew how much she meant to him (and as close as they were, Louis knew that Zayn would never think of him quite the way he thought of her).

 

…

—*—

Zayn wondered if he could fly. When the wings first grew, the passing thought disgusted him, partly because he didn’t want wings in the first place. He wasn’t a fucking superhero, he was a freak. People wouldn’t ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at him as he flew through the sky. If he ever managed to fly like that he’d probably be shot on sight. He’d be on newspapers, only known as 'The Chicago Mutant' or some lame spin of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He didn’t want that.

But recently, the thought plagued his mind. He just wanted to try. To see if it was possible.

He and Louis were currently sprawled on Louis living room floor (they occasionally hung out at the Tomlinson’s though they spent the most time at Zayn’s). Louis dad was at work and Zayn had seen Mrs. Tomlinson and Louis sisters heading to the grocery store when he came in. (“Mummy, is that the one Louis likes?” “Stitch up now Lottie”).

“Do you think something good could come of it?” Zayn spoke to the ceiling, the gentle fuzz of the Tomlinson's carpet cushioning him. Even though they were alone, they tried not to mention the word 'wings' too often, especially since it was summer and they were at Louis house where they had more than one person to worry about.

“Like what?” Louis exhaled as he spoke. Zayn could feel the British boy’s fingers resting near his, tantalizingly so, so close he felt static.

“Like maybe…”

“Flying?”

Zayn turned his head to the right, the rug tickling his cheek. “How’d you know?”

Louis' laugh reverberated through the room, he turned his head to face Zayn. They were about an arm lengths away from each other. If Zayn made one quick movement he would be pressed against his friend. (friend. friend.)

He stayed put.

“You’ve kind of been hinting at it forever.”

Zayn releases a small chuckle. “What?”

“Okay, remember when we went to the park downtown?”

“Yeah?”

“You were watching the pigeons.”

Zayn laughed out loud then. “That means nothing.”

“No but you weren’t watching them like people normally look at them. You were like…studying them. And whenever one of them would fly you would get this little smile but then you’d frown right afterwards, like you envied them or something.”

“Oh.” Zayn turns on the ground to face the ceiling again.

“And I mean, if I had wi-what you had, that would be the first thing I’d want.”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathed. Louis seemed to notice him sinking back into his thoughts because he changed the subject abruptly.

“So.” Louis sang the word. “Your birthday’s in a week and your mom’s gone for the next two weeks. How massive do you think this party’s going to be?”

“I don’t want a party Louis.” Who would even come to a party for him?

“Oh _ok_.” The way Louis stressed the last word worried Zayn.

“And I don’t mean that in a ‘please plan me a surprise party’ way.” He turned to look at Louis, making sure the boy understands that he was serious.

“Oh…oh you’re serious.” Louis looks surprised. “So what do you want to do then?”

“I don’t know if I even want to do anything.” (He just wanted to do something with Louis)

“Oh come on,” Louis whined. “It’s your birthday!”

Zayn laughed at his theatrical friend and looked outside. The sun was setting.

“I’ve got to get home, mom’s leaving tonight and I want to give her a proper goodbye.”

Louis nodded understandingly. He got that Zayn savored the little time he had with his mother. Louis understood a lot of things actually. Zayn pondered it as he shut the door to his own home.

The only time he truly felt misunderstood by his friend was the day he went to his dad’s for Christmas vacation. The day his secret was clawing at his mouth, dying to get out. But Louis just didn’t get it. The desolation of constantly having to hide himself was always at the back of his mind, but that day it was thrust in his face. He honestly didn’t know what would become of him. And maybe it was a melodramatic teenager thing to do, but when he came back from his dad’s place he hid away from Louis (“Zayn, Louis on the phone for you.” “Tell him I’m not back yet.” “…You sure?” “Yeah.”). He marked his possessions with letters of the alphabet, for who they should go to should he have to disappear.

And when Louis had first found out about the wings and reacted the way he did, it had been a blatant reminder of that loneliness. He then spent hours writing letters on lined paper (he ended up drawing in the margins, as always) to go to each person.

But then Louis came back.

Louis knew his secret and he still came back.

He’d say that was when he really started to look at Louis differently. He had always known the Doncaster native was attractive, he wasn’t blind, but he just didn’t ever consider him that way. He had pretty much made it a rule not to consider anyone that way, because he’d constantly be keeping things from them. But the thing that he always figured would drive them apart (like with Dani) wasn’t there anymore.

Some days when he felt introspective (like today), he’d update the letters, chucking the old ones together, still addressed. And as always they would have drawings in the margins.

 

…

—*—

It was Zayn’s birthday and Louis had the perfect gift planned. Since Louis and Zayn’s living room floor chat, Louis had been thinking of what he could do for Zayn’s birthday that meant something, but was low key (as well as general thoughts of his dark haired best friend).

He was getting ready to go to Zayn’s house for the Community marathon that Zayn thought was his whole birthday celebration, the boy didn’t even allow Louis to buy him a gift (“The Troy and Abed cup was enough Lou, I’m serious.”). It turned out that day wouldn’t have been the best for a huge party for Zayn since Corbin’s parents were out of town as well and he was throwing a midsummer rager. Everyone (“even the weird kids” as Corbin had put it) was invited, so everyone would be there. This fact ended up being useful to orchestrating Zayn’s present. Throwing on a light jacket that would be helpful later he practically skipped over to Zayn’s place.

 

…

“What's with the letters on everything?” Louis asked. He had been seeing them around Zayn’s place since after winter break.

“What?” Zayn looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah I saw them on your paintings and stuff and I thought it was an art thing, but there’s an H on your grease monkey jacket.” (the name he had taken to calling Zayn’s leather garment)

“Uh-it’s nothing. Where did you say we were going again?” Zayn avoided the question and changed the subject.

Louis would normally press something like that, at least a little, but he was eager to show Zayn his gift.

“I’ll tell you after you put on a shirt,” Louis chastised. “Seriously, get ready, I want to go.”

After their marathon ended they had lazed around Zayn’s room for a bit. And of course Zayn had to take his fucking shirt off (“How do you stay…you know like fit?” “Like what?” “Like your whole abdominal area. Can you even do sit-ups?” “Ha, no I can’t. Had to stay fit for football and when I stopped I guess the extra…parts used up all the extra calories that would have pudged me up.” “Huh.” “Staying power I guess…why?” “Wha-no reason”).

Louis laughed to himself as Zayn begrudgingly put on his Ace Bandage and got ready.

“Okay at least tell me how we’re going to get there. Do I need to get my bike?” Zayn questioned, trying to seem indifferent but Louis could tell that the boy was curious (maybe even eager).

“No need.” Louis paused but then decided to throw him a bone. "It’s walking distance.”

“Alright.” Louis laughed inwardly as Zayn tried to conceal his triumphant smile at getting a clue. It was dark by the time they left Zayn’s place, most house lights were off. They walked in relative silence, the only prominent sound being that of Corbin’s party raging on, assuring Louis of his plan.

 

…

“A bakery?”

“A deserted bakery,” Louis corrected as he climbed the last step to get to the roof of the building. “See what I did there?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Okay…why?” he asked as he joined him.

Louis stayed silent, not wanting to give it away just like that. Taking a breath he turned to Zayn and said “Take off your shirt.”

 

—*—

“Wha-what?” Zayn asked, befuddled. Sure, he had recently been having a few ‘not requiring a shirt’ thoughts about the boy but what the actual fuck was happening? He wasn’t ready for this, not yet. (that didn’t stop Birthday Sex from playing in his head)

“You wanted to fly right?”

Zayn inwardly breathed a sigh of relief (though there was the slightest hint of disappointment). Flying, this was about flying. He listened as Louis continued.

“Well I thought since you didn’t let me get an actual present,” Louis rolled his eyes. “I’d give you an opportunity instead.”

Zayn opened his mouth to protest but Louis was too quick.

“Everyone’s at Corbin’s party.” He began listing on his fingers. “It’s dark, and the only reason I know where this place is because I got lost while trying to take one of Niall’s ‘short cuts’" He used air quotes on short cuts. "I’ve never seen anyone else here…like ever”

“Well how many times have you been here?” Zayn asked.

Louis looked down. “Well there was the first time, and then when I was thinking of doing this I came ‘round like four times.”

“I don’t know Lou.” He looked around at the space.

“Come on, Chicago.”

Zayn chuckled at Louis use of the lame nicknames Zayn had tried to coin.

“Just try it, Zayn, you know you want to.”

Sighing, Zayn stripped. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Louis shrugged. “How should I know?”

Zayn stood, wings out. Outside of his room. Self-consciousness surrounded him.

Louis seemed to pick up on it. “It’s just me,” he said quietly.

Taking a deep breath Zayn started slowly moving his wings, building up momentum as he had practiced in the safety of his bathroom. After he reached a strong wind creating speed he choked, halting suddenly. He had never gone farther than this before.

Louis noticed his speed decrease and said “Try, like, running forward a little and jumping.”

Inhaling deeply once again, he picked up the pace and then ran forward and jumped.

And for a few moments he felt lifted, his feet drifting above the roof. He felt like he was walking on air (which he guessed he was) and it was amazing.

When his feet softly hit the ground he opened his eyes (had they been closed this whole time?). He had just flown. In reality it was for about three seconds, but it felt like a blissful eternity to Zayn. Without thinking he ran to his friend and gathered the smaller boy in his arms, muttering words of gratitude over and over again.

He felt Louis' laughter before he heard it, vibrating from his chest into Zayn’s (that felt really good).

“It’s ok, Zayn, it’s ok.”

 

…

—*—

  
Louis watched in awe and amusement (and a little lovingly he’d admit if you put a gun to his head) as Zayn did little running starts before leaping into the air, flying higher and farther each time. And how cool was that? His best friend (and possibly the object of his affections) could fly.

He had sat down by the elevated ledge watching his friend have, what looked like, the time of his life. When preparing, Zayn’s brows were drawn tight and his jaw was clenched in determination. But as soon as he lifted off his whole face would relax and sometimes he’d get this really small (and cute) half smile. (He looked like some kind of angel)

Louis' back had started cramping from the way he was sitting and he got up to adjust himself.

And suddenly he was tripping, and then his feet weren’t touching the roof, and then he was falling backwards and then wind was rushing up the sides of his face, and then he hit something.

And then he was rising and he was thinking maybe God turned a blind eye to the majority of his life and decided to let him in anyway.

When he started to come back to his own body, he realized that oh, those were arms holding him. He opened the eyes he didn’t know he had closed and looked into smooth hazel as he felt his feet slowly touch the bakery roof.

They were back on the roof, Louis wasn’t dead (well, in reality the building wasn’t high enough for him to do more than break some bones, but it felt like life or death to him) but Zayn’s arms were still wrapped around him and Louis own hands were on the winged boy’s shoulders. The boy in front of him was staring right at him, breathing hard and looking devastatingly beautiful as always.

 

—*—

Zayn was able to break away from the cerulean gaze long enough to look at the golden boy’s lips.

Zayn wondered if Louis would taste like mischief.

 

—*—

Before Louis could react to Zayn’s eyes leaving his own lonely, the boy’s lips were on his and (oh that’s what people meant with that whole 'knees go weak, pulse in your ears' thing)

 

—*—

He did.

But he tasted a bit like brilliance too.

 

…

 

—*—

“You saved me.”

Louis and Zayn were lying in the grass behind the bakery. They had climbed down the stairs in silence, Zayn still holding his clothes in his hand.

Zayn stayed silent for a while but breathed a reply. “I guess.”

They remained in silence for moments more. Louis didn’t quite know what to say.

“You kissed me.”

Right. Because that was the best thing to say.

“That I did.” Zayn paused. “I seem to remember you kissing me back.” His voice sounded minutely tentative.

Louis beamed, glad for the cloaking of the night. He didn’t want to pressure Zayn with the whole 'what are we' thing (though he was quite sure what he wanted to be). Instead of saying it directly, he decided to hint at it instead.

“Hey. Me and Niall and them are hanging out at the park tomorrow.” He turned his head to the side to face Zayn, looking hopeful. “Maybe you could come.”

Zayn didn’t reply but Louis knew what the boy was saying his head: I don’t know, Lou.

“You don’t have to stay there the whole time. You can just drop by and talk to me and just…like say hi to everyone else.”

His friends had apologized after their last argument. Dani first, then Niall, then Eleanor and finally Liam (accompanied by a bone crushing hug). If Zayn and his friends got along, then maybe he and Zayn could get to where he wanted to be.

“Okay.”

 

…

That night Louis pulled the covers over his head with the smile and slipped into a content slumber. The distant sounds of yelling causing him to turn in his sleep (“Happy AAAAAAAAHHHH!” “Mom, WAIT!”).

 

—*—

Zayn opened his door and stumbled in, barely awake. Flying (and…other things) had left him exhausted. Dropping the clothes he had been holding and just managing to put his glasses on the bedside table, jeans on, he collapsed on top of the covers.

He drifted off to sleep, anxious but excited about seeing Louis and his friends (maybe they could be Zayn's friends too?) the next day.

 

…

—*—

Patricia smiled as she pulled up to the house. Sure, she was technically a day late, with it being 3:00 am but she really didn’t want to miss yet another one of her son’s birthdays. Especially since he had asked to spend July in Chicago instead of the full two months at his dad’s place.

 

—*—

“Happy AAAAAAAAHHHH!” Zayn was awoken by a shrill scream.

He rubbed sleepily at his eyes and turned to see his mother standing in his doorway. Eye’s wide, jaw slack. (Why the hell was she screaming? Why was she even there at all?)

“What! Mom, why are you screaming!”

He stumbled out of his bed, a wind blew from his open window, ruffling his feathers. His feathers.

Zayn stepped towards his mother but as soon as he did she took off running to her room.

“Mom, WAIT!” he began yelling as well.

By the time he could get his sleep impaired body across the hallway and to his mother’s room she had locked it. His mother had locked him out…like some kind of monster.

He felt weak once again. “Mom, _please_ ,” he spoke against the door. Maybe if she came out he could explain, he wanted to talk to her about it (he didn’t want her to run from him). Pressed against her door he heard the faint sound of dialing. (Who was she calling?)

For the next fifteen minutes Zayn knocked steadily at her door.

He knocked until he heard the sound of sirens.

 

—*—

Louis woke up to the sound of sirens (though the random yelling he was hearing in his head wasn’t allowing him to sleep that well anyway).

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep (Corbin’s party probably got busted) but it got steadily closer, as if the ambulance or cop car or whatever it was, was coming to his neighborhood.

He rolled out of bed, still in his boxers and t-shirt and yawned, ruffling a hand through his hair. He threw on a beanie and slowly made his way down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone else in the house.

“Wait, Mom, _PLEASE_!” A pleading voice rang out.

Zayn’s voice.

At that sound, Louis ran out of his house in his socks; hoodie and slippers long forgotten.

When he got outside, the sight before him left him horrified. Zayn, barefoot, in jeans, wings out (why were his wings out?) was struggling to escape the grip of two men, trying to reach his mother. At the sound of Louis door slamming, Zayn’s head turned rapidly to face him. The boy had tears in his eyes as he changed the purpose of his struggle to get to Louis. He watched frozen, but as soon as he saw that Zayn was gaining an advantage his legs took off running.

He smacked right into his friend (who was _just_ starting to be more) and threw his arms around the boy’s neck, holding onto him with all of his strength. Zayn was doing the same, Louis could feel the boy’s iron grip around his waist. They were only able to maintain it for a few moments before the men were wrenching Zayn away again.

“ _No_!” He heard his own voice screeching in the night. “No you can’t take him! You can’t just _take_ him!”

He heard Zayn’s own sobbing. “Please, Mom!”

Louis was too preoccupied to even look at Patricia.

“I won’t let you!” Louis charged towards the truck stationed beside a cop car. Before he could take three steps someone else was holding him back.

He yelled and screamed, tears streaming down his face as he watched helplessly. Watched as two men shoved his best friend (the boy he was already mostly in love with) into the van and shut the sliding door.

'Crest Asylum' were the last words he managed to see before the two vehicles drove away. (They took Zayn. Zayn was gone) People began to file out of their homes as the automobiles rounded the corner (“What happened Jim?” “I don’t know, I just woke up.”),paying no attention to the boy sitting on the ground.

Louis sat defeated on his front lawn. He wasn’t concerned with the wet grass dampening his boxers, more with the fact that he couldn’t cry anymore, only stare at the spot the van used to be in.

 

…

“Honey?” He heard his mother’s tentative voice. “Can I come in?”

In all honesty, Louis would have preferred if she didn’t, but he knew she was only trying to help.

“Uh-sure, mum.”

He threw his blankets off of him and sat up in his bed. His mother opened the door, carrying a tray of Yorkshire tea that he really didn’t want and placed it on his computer table.

“Thanks, mum, but I don’t really want any.”

There was silence at first but then she turned around to face her son.

“Louis it’s been almost three days. You need to eat some real food,” she said sternly.

“I can’t alright?” he tried to explain. “I’ll only be sick…they just took him, mum.”

With an empathetic expression, she sat next to her son on his bed.

“How could they just take him?” he whispered into her shoulder.

“I don’t know everything, you were the only one who saw it happen.”

What great use that was, he couldn’t remember half of what had happened (just holding onto Zayn for dear life, Patricia crying on her doorstep).

“But I do know that he’s just gone away, he hasn’t disappeared off the face of the earth. He’s going to come back, Boobear.” She took Louis face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “You just need to be patient.”

So for the next few weeks, he tried his best to act normal. Going out with his friends (though they tiptoed around him like he was some kind of fragile ornament), playing with his sisters (“Louis, where’s Zayn?” “Not here. ” “Oh. Well I miss playing with him. When is he coming back?” “I don’t know, Daisy.”)

He was being patient.

 

…

The weekend after school started again, Zayn’s absence weighed heavier on his shoulders. He was done being patient.

It came to him in a nightmare. (“No you can’t take him! You can’t just _take_ him!”)

His memory of the event had been shrouded, but in his night terror he saw words on the door of the vehicle that took Zayn away.

Crest Asylum.

He rolled out of bed and turned on his laptop. Feeling anxious he typed the letters into the Google search bar. Recording the address and directions on his phone he set an alarm for 8:00 am.

By 9:00 am on that Saturday, he was heading out to the bus shelter (“Bye mum!” “Where are you going again?” “To visit a friend.” “Oh, well alright. Say hello to them for me”).

The commute gave Louis time to think. Would he even be allowed in? What was he going to say? ( _I think I love you._ )

 

…

He looked up at the large sign, confirming he was in the right place before walking up to the sliding doors. This place didn’t look so bad.

“He did what?” Louis was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of a middle aged woman in scrubs speaking into a walkie-talkie. With an exasperated sigh the woman ended the transmission and turned to a young looking girl behind her.

“New girl right?” The girl nodded. “How about you try manning the front desk for a bit okay?”

As the girl nodded again, the other woman took off running down a hall.

Louis walked up to the front desk where the girl, Demi as her nametag said, was situated.

“Um, hi I came to visit-“

“For visits you have to fill out this form.” The girl handed him a sheet on a clipboard with a pen. Louis took it with a small smile.

He sat down in one of the waiting chairs and set to complete the form. They were pretty basic questions such as his age, who he wanted to see, stuff like that.

Louis scanned the form over and realized he had skipped over the name at the top. He scrawled down his first name then paused. He didn’t really know how asylums worked but if they were anything like regular hospitals then he’d be more likely to get information if he was a family member.

Making a decision he scrawled upon the sheet, filling up the dotted line. He sat back and looked at the words 'Louis Malik' staring back at him. And in that moment he hated those words with every fibre of his being. Because it wasn’t supposed to be happening this way. The first time he wrote those words, he should have been doodling them on the back of his notebook in his senior English class, while daydreaming an impossibly unrealistic future for the both of them. Not writing them on an asylum visitation form as a desperate attempt to find out more about what was happening to the boy he fancied (maybe even loved).

Before the tears of frustration could start up, Louis got up and headed back to where the girl, Demi, was.

“Here.” He handed her the clipboard.

“Okay I’m just going to need to see some ID,” she started, still not looking at the clipboard placed before her. But before Louis could begin to panic about how his ID definitely did not correspond with the name he wrote on the form, Demi spoke.

“Wait, you came to see Zayn Malik?”

“Yeah?” He answered cautiously, his confusion apparent in his tone as he posed his answer as another question.

“Oh he isn’t here anymore.”

Louis blinked, unable to comprehend the information he had just been given. Demi beckoned for him to come closer as she leaned forward in her chair.

“I just got here about a week ago, so I never saw what happened.”

Louis nodded, urging her to continue.

“But from what I heard the situation,” she raised her eyebrows and splayed her manicured hands as if to stress the word. “The situation was crazy, but the kid, he wasn’t. Apparently he had some stuff on him that the guards thought was a costume but he got transferred when they figured out it wasnt.” She frowned. "Still don't know what the thing was, but from the way people talk, it was major. And most of the staff keep muttering about how the mother shouldn't have called Crest in the first place, but I guess she just thought 'crazy and dialed for 'crazy'. They usually stop talking when they see me though, I know I'm new but-"

“So where is he?” his voice sounded broken even to his own ears.

She only looked mildly affronted by the interruption but seemed eager to dish the gossip she knew. “I’m not really supposed to tell anyone this, but your last name says you’re part of the family, plus Gertrude isn’t here to stop me.” She rolled her eyes. “They took him over to Stet Biological Correction Facility just short of a week ago.”

Louis sighed. “Fine, I’ll just go there then,” he said to himself. Demi heard though and spoke up “Sorry hun, only his mom and dad can go see him in there.”

“Oh,” Louis breathed, “well thank you.”

“No problem, you can have this back if you’d like. I don’t really want to have to file this,” she muttered as an afterthought, stretching the sheet towards him.

He took it gingerly, waiting until he was past the sliding doors before ripping it up and throwing it in the nearest bin.

 

…

Louis completed his senior year with flying colours. All thoughts of Zayn had been pushed away, (only resurfacing in the night) and he focused on his studies. Louis was able to get into Julliard for theatre on a scholarship. At first he tried to ‘party the pain away’, but he soon grew tired of long nights with people he barely liked and waking up with a hangover nearly every morning. He would still hang out with his friends, (they tried their best to keep him happy) but theatre and academics became the main focus of his life.

He was closing up some more boxes for his move to New York (one more week) when his mother entered the room.

“Louis?”

“Yeah?” He cut a piece of tape with his teeth and laid it down on the cardboard before turning around to face his mum.

“Patricia wanted to speak to you.” Louis froze. “She asked if you could come over tonight.”

“Uh-um yeah.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans. He was nervous but at the same time didn’t want to prolong the meeting. “Is she there now?”

“Yes, but you don't have to go right away if you don't want to.” She seemed slightly surprised by her son’s behaviour.

“Might as well.” He tried to smile. “She’s right next door.”

He stepped outside in his t-shirt, feeling a bit chilly from the late August night air. He rang the doorbell and his heart panged as he saw her puffy eyes.

“Louis." She smiled softly. "You can come in if you’d like.”

He remained rooted to the spot. Not only because of his slight resentment towards the woman (he knows she thought she was helping Zayn but _fuck_ ), but because he just wasn’t ready to walk into that house.

Noting Louis apprehension, Patricia nodded resignedly before disappearing into the house. She re-emerged holding a large cardboard box.

“Zayn wanted you to have this.” She placed the box in his hands.

What did she mean he wanted him to have it? Why was she speaking about Zayn in past tense? (No, _please no_. This couldn’t be happening. He was overthinking things, that was it.)

She coughed. “Zayn, he passed away from blood loss during one of his uh-operations. I just wanted to gather all of this and,” she sniffed, “and give it to you before you left for New York.” She sighed and tried to smile, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Julliard huh? Always knew you were a special one.”

Patricia’s attempt at changing the subject was futile. Zayn was gone.

Louis spoke the only words that he could think of. “Wh-when’s the funeral?”

Patricia looked like she wanted to burst into tears at his words. “There isn’t going to be one. The-the facility is preserving his body to s-study it. They’re only allowing his father and I to see his body before we aren’t a-allowed to anymore. But,” she tried to look hopeful, “they are putting up a tombstone with a garden that we can visit. F-for sentimental value I guess.”

(All of this was shit. Every fucking ounce.)

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Patricia.” He uttered the words he knew were polite to say as his body went on autopilot. He gripped the box tighter and bid the grieving woman goodnight before turning on his heel and heading home.

He passed his mother on his way to his bedroom.

“They killed Zayn.”

“Oh, _Louis_.” His mom sounded pained and moved to follow Louis into his bedroom. But Louis shut the door and resumed packing.

The box labeled ‘Louis’ in Patricia’s writing remained untouched.

 

…

Louis smiled as he opened the door to his singular dorm room. The goodbyes with his family at the airport had been long and hard but he’d made it. He had considered getting a car while he was there, (finally got that license) but after seeing the city decided he’d rather stick to walking, biking and public transit.

After scarfing down the McDonald’s he had bought on the way, Louis cut the tape on the boxes and began arranging them in their rightful place. Two and a half hours later he only had one box left. Truthfully he had put that one off because of the sheer size of it when eyeballing the stacks, it was one of the biggest.

Eyes already closing from exhaustion, Louis padded over to the last box and hauled it onto the carpeting near his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw the simple inscription of ‘Louis’ (thanks, that’s real specific). He sat down on the carpet, the box between his legs and cut open the tape.

The fabric lying on top was folded and Louis didn’t really know what it was. He took hold of two ends of it and shook it out. It was a varsity jacket, one that looked oddly familiar. His heart dropped when he saw the ‘Malik’ sewn in a white script. (why? why was Zayn doing this?)

He gently placed the garment beside him and looked into the box. On the top he saw a painted canvas filled with blending bright colors, greens and yellows and soft blues all united by egg shell white, and a crude black splotch. (“This is really cool.” He had said.)

Louis brought out more things from the box. A tattered _Parachute_ t-shirt, and several sketchbooks were just a few among the things in the brimming box. He was only halfway through the box (everything had a little Sharpie L on them and the realization that his friend had been doing this for so long was like colliding with a train. He knew those letters were off) when he noticed the envelope sticking out of the pocket of the varsity jacket.

He slowly pulled it out, running his fingers over the ‘Doncaster’ written in Zayn’s loopy handwriting. Not wanting to rip the envelope, Louis padded over to his little kitchen and pulled out the letter opening knife his mom had insisted he have and cleanly sliced the envelope open.

With trembling fingers he unfolded the lined paper.

 

>   
>  _Dear,Lou_
> 
> _If you’re reading this then I’m probably dead, or missing or something like that. And I most likely didn’t get to give you a proper goodbye, which sucks, but I thought maybe giving you some words and some stuff would make that a little better._
> 
> _Well, I put my varsity jacket in there, ‘cause when you saw it, you kept staring at it and asking me if it was warm. And there’s the painting that you looked at in my little art studio (keep in mind I use the word studio very loosely), you were all “This is really cool” and even though it was one of the most basic things you could have said, it meant a lot (I had made that at a really hard time). I don’t know, I just thought you’d like it more than the others. There’s my Parachute t-shirt. I used to wear that to bed every night, ‘cause I hate wearing that Ace Bandage (or any bandages) to bed but if someone were to come in at least something would be covering them._

If someone were to come in. Well someone did come in and he wasn’t wearing the shirt (why couldn’t Zayn just have worn the damn shirt. His mom wasn’t supposed to be back for another week but still). Louis cringed as he saw the date of the letter, Zayn had written it a week before his birthday. Louis and Zayn had hung out that day (Louis and Zayn almost held hands that day).

Louis closed the letter and placed it on his dresser. There was still more to read in the letter (not to mention the other lined sheets that littered his floor) but Louis just wasn’t ready.

He stripped down to his boxers and threw on the Parachute shirt (it somehow still smelled like Zayn). Leaving the rest of Zayn’s (were they Louis' now?) belongings scattered around his bedroom without a second thought, he slipped into bed and spent the night huddled in his blankets staring into space.

When it got colder he slept with the varsity jacket on too.

(He still hadn’t cleaned up his rug, leaving it the same way it was when he first opened the box)

 

…

“Louis!”

The chorus of his name emanated from his sisters as they ran across the airport floors to him. He dropped his bags, grinning as he embraced them.

“We missed you so much!” Lottie voiced.

“I missed you guys too,” he laughed.

His parents came up from behind him, holding the bags he had discarded. After hugging them as well, the full Tomlinson family drove back to their home.

 

…

“Dinner in ten minutes!” his mother yelled to the house.

Louis had just about finished unpacking all the stuff he had brought to stay with his family in the summer. That morning, he had been running late for his flight back to Chicago and had basically just swiped all the papers on his dresser into his carry on. Among the superfluous ads, he found the letter Zayn wrote to him. The one he still hadn’t finished.

He placed it on his computer table. His room looked basically the same as he left. Looking up from his computer desk he saw his little bulletin board. Still tacked on it was the strip of photos from when he and Zayn had gone to the town centre. (It had been two years but it still hurt to see it)

Before he could retreat into himself yet again, he ran down the stairs to dine with his family.

 

…

It was July and Louis was officially bored of everything. He had been voicing that throughout the day and it was safe to say his family was getting annoyed.

“If you’re so bored, Louis, get out of the house! For Christ sakes,” his dad yelled back to Louis after one too many “I’m bored”s

So thirty minutes later, Louis climbed into his dad’s car and began driving around town. After an hour and a half of aimless cruising he found himself pulling up to a place that looked painfully familiar.

Paul’s Pins.

Not really thinking, Louis paid the acne ridden teenager at the front desk and stumbled over to isle seven.

He didn’t know how long he played, but he knew that a shift change must have taken place, because the voice calling out to him was definitely not the one of the teenager he spoke to earlier.

“Hey, we’re closing up! You’re going to need to leave now!”

He turned around and was met with Harry, wearing a familiar leather jacket.

“Louis! Louis, is that you?”

He walked closer to his old friend. (well he was more Zayn’s friend than his)

“Haven’t seen you here in almost two years man. How’ve you been?” Harry smiled at him (how can he still manage to smile so much), taking a seat on the front desk. Louis probably wouldn’t be leaving here for a while.

 

…

The two chatted for about a half hour sitting outside the building. Catching up on each other’s lives. Harry was going into his last year of college in September and was dating Perrie.

Louis had been preoccupied during their conversation, carefully inspecting the jacket Harry had on.

“Is that…” he trailed off, not quite ready to say his name.

Harry looked down at himself. “Zayn’s? Yeah.”

“Oh.” (Take it off, take it off, _take it off_ )

They both went silent for a while. “I’m guessing you got a box too?” Harry broke the silence.” A couple people did, even that Danielle girl he used to hang out with.”

“Yeah,” Louis laughed bitterly. “Half the stuff in mine is still scattered around my dorm room. I haven’t even able to touch them since the first time. They’re laid out like they were when I first opened the box, I only got halfway through.” He laughed at himself yet again “And I sleep in his t-shirt and jacket. I even got the spray he used and when his smell goes away I put more on them.” Louis lost his filter as he poured his feelings out to Harry. Maybe it was because Harry was the closest he’d get to someone who understood.

They fell into silence again. Harry once again breaking it

“That’s not healthy.”

Or maybe Harry didn’t understand. Louis shook his head as Harry continued. “I know it’s hard, more so for you because you were closer to him, but you need to move on.”

“I can’t just move on and forget him.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”

Harry closed his eyes and when he opened them, the bright green orbs shone with unshed tears.

“Then do something for him. Move on and remember.”

Harry gave him a sad smile and a weak wave before heading to his car and driving off.

 

…

Louis spent the night staring at the glossy strip of photos opposite his bed, straining his eyes in the dark.

 

…

He spent the next day at home, not really doing much of anything. But when the night came, Louis found himself staring into space,Harry’s words echoing through his mind (“Move on and remember.”)

Clad in his pajama bottoms and Zayn’s shirt and jacket (letter in the pocket), Louis left a note on the dining room table before walking over to the nearest Syco (not the one by Paul’s Pins, he didn’t know if he’d be able to look Lydia in the eye) and buying a bag of marshmallows. Thanking the cashier, he stumbled over to his next destination.

He slowly climbed the stairs to get to the roof of the abandoned bakery.

Reaching the top, he slowly lowered himself to sit in the middle of the space (not daring to get close to the edge, Zayn wasn't there to catch him now) and pulled the letter out of his pocket.

Using the streetlamps as lighting Louis finally read the rest of the letter.

>   
>  _I better wrap up this letter now. In my mom’s, I told her that if I was actually dead then I wanted to be buried with the Troy and Abed mug because well, why the fuck not? Remember when you got me that? Yeah…that was a dramatic day. But it worked out pretty well in the end._
> 
> _Oh and if you’ve noticed the doodles in the margins, it’s ok. I would have died of embarrassment (because of the excess hearts and drawings of the both of us) but I’m already dead (or maybe just missing) so whatever._
> 
> _Love you, Louis (you may interpret that anyway you’d like)_
> 
> _Zayn_

On the roof of a bakery, clutching a half eaten bag of Syco marshmallows, Louis cried harder than he ever did before. ( _Why didn’t you just wear the fucking shirt? Why did you leave me? Please come back._ )

…

Louis slept for most of the next day, finally allowing himself to grieve and accept that Zayn wasn't coming back.

(“Do something for him.”)

Louis remembered when he had asked Zayn about his tattoos. At first he had only ever seen the peace sign (and the ying yang but he didn’t feel like that was even worth mentioning), and when he posed the question of what it meant, the boy replied “I don’t know, I just wanted to get a tattoo but I didn’t want to get the regular peace sign.”

After Louis found out about Zayn’s wings and the boy bared his chest in front of Louis more often, he asked about the inscription across the boy’s chest.

(“Let me guess, another meaningless tattoo. What does it say ‘Thug life’ in Urdu or something?”

Zayn had laughed. “Actually it’s my grandfather’s name.”)

Louis scoured Google images for a picture that looked closest to Zayn’s wings and using some editing software, fiddled with it until it looked almost as beautiful as the real thing (though nothing could ever be quite as stunning).

He considered making them these huge angry markings on his back, with Zayn’s name in the middle. But he knew what Zayn would have said about that, probably something like “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So what happens when the next person you date sees some guy's name in giant letters on your back?” And making the wings large and obnoxious wouldn’t be right. This was about Zayn, and Zayn wasn’t like that (Zayn was more subtle and private).

So after discussing it with his parents (“A tattoo? Are you sure? Those things are permanent.” “I know mom, and I’m sure. This is something I have to do."), he headed down to Little Ink and had it done.

He came home with small wings and the word ‘Remember’ between his shoulder blades. Louis stepped into the bathroom. He had gotten the tattoo on his back so it was just like Zayn. He couldn’t always see it, but he knew it was always there. (and he could only take the time to gaze upon it in the most private of times.)

…

Louis was taking an extra drama workshop at his school to give him an edge and thus had to leave in late July. After a teary goodbye with his family and a promise to spend the full summer next time, Louis flew back to New York.

…

He woke up on Saturday morning, rubbing at his eyes. His workshop had started on Thursday and just after two days Louis felt extremely tired.

He rolled to his side and picked his phone up from his bedside table. Staring at the date on his iPhone, Louis blanched. It was Zayn’s birthday. (He would have been nineteen) This would have been where Louis would burrow back into his blankets and retreat into himself.

But with Harry’s encouraging words in mind (“Move on and remember.”), he crawled out of bed. Thumbing at Zayn’s threadbare Parachute t-shirt, he faced the mess he had left in his room for months.

With new found determination Louis sorted through the box. He fished out a mahogany box he had used to bring some things back to New York and emptied it.

By noon he had transferred most everything into the nicer box. He paused, tears blurring his eyes as he brought out the last few things in the cardboard box.

Five black and white paintings. Each identical to the photos that he and Zayn had taken at the town centre. The last one, with Louis' darkened cheeks, was unfinished. The piece was fully sketched, but only the bottom half had been painted. Holding the canvas up, the light made some writing on the back of the canvas apparent. Louis turned it over and read it

> _This was probably the most embarrassing thing ever. I felt so relieved you hadn’t caught me staring and then I saw the photos and I was like "well fuck.”_

Louis laughed through his tears, that was just like Zayn.

He made a move to hang it up on his bedroom wall, but stopped, knowing it would be too hard to look at every day. Instead he searched for his original copy of the photos in his bags and slipped it into the back of the canvas. He scanned the other four pieces and reached for the third (Louis rubbing his head with a frown and Zayn laughing. Laughing; with eyes closed, teeth bared and his tongue peeking out…Louis kind of loved it), hanging it up across from his bed.

Louis wiped at his cheeks and put the rest of the things in the wooden box. Labeling it ‘Don’t Forget’ and sliding it under his bed.

When he picked up the cardboard box to break and recycle it, he paused as something floated around in the box before landing right back on the bottom.

He picked up the lined paper, blinking away tears as he read Zayn’s swirling handwriting

> _Don’t cry Louis._

He turned the paper over.

>   
>  _“But I love you more that words can say_  
>  _I can’t count the reasons I should stay  
>  One by one they all just fade away  
>  But I love you more than words can say”_
> 
> _I’ll see you later ok?_

(The note only sent him into another fit of sobs)

…

By his last year of university Louis could watch Community without the sting of salty tears in his eyes (“Move on and remember.”)

***

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Please don't hate me for not using warnings. It's just, everytime I read a fic that I already know that someone major is going to pass, it takes away from the work. But that's just my opinion. If it's a real problem for people I might go back and add one, bc you guys are important too.
> 
> (Also, if you happen to see a portion that you think would make a good summary, please let me know. I don't really like the one I have now. It was just from the same song I got the title/some inspiration from)
> 
> And if you know the song I took the title from then I probably love you, most likely.
> 
> Thanks again :)


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